The Hidden God
by middleearthmidget
Summary: Arya is miserable living as queen of the elves without Eragon, and things go from bad to worse when the leader of the riders is captured by a rouge dwarven clan out for his blood. To save Eragon, Arya will have to discover where her heart truly lies-and who she really is. But nothing is as it seems, and Arya will soon learn that something far bigger is going on...
1. Nobody's Fault But

**Disclaimer: I do not own the inheritance cycle. That belongs to Christopher Paolini. I did not write it either. George Lucas did. **

**Summary: Okay, the main theme for this story is the dwarven gods. I'm making them real! This is basically a sequel to Inheritance, with a few twists. You'll see! I plan to update 1 chapter a week, so I have time to stock up for when I'm busy or have writer's block. **

**Everything else will become clear in time...I'm not sure but I think this first part is going to be mainly Arya's POV. **

**Please review to this! I won't post chapter 2 until I get 10 reviews cause I'm bad like that. Also, a big shoutout to Tamerlain85 for being such a huge help, including coming up with the name for this story!**

**I'll also leave you with a puzzle, if you want to take it. A while ago I posted a story called "Life, Alagesia and Everything" which basically the "bread and butter" of this story. PM me once you've read it, and I'll give you a question. If you answer it correctly, then you will have uncovered a major plot point for this story, and I'll give you a few other secrets as a reward to go with it. Oh, and please review the story once you've read it!**

**So, without further ado...**

Of course, Arya had never really expected a happy ending for herself. She had long ago come to terms with the fact that cruel fate simply didn't like her very much. Her life was made up of a long line of tragedies each one more sorrowful than the last and, since fate rarely changes its favourites, Arya had always known, deep down, that she was never going to have the things she wanted in life.

If she were a dwarf or a human or an urgal she could just accept this. She would blame Guntera or something. However, she was an elf, and so she knew Guntera had nothing to do with it. What was her problem, then? Why all these disasters? Had she brought it upon herself?

The first really awful thing that had happened to her was when her father died. He had always been kind to her, warm and loving and caring in a way that her mother was not. His death shattered her but that wasn't all; her mother completely changed when he died. She became a cold, turbulent and all round bad parent. Possibly the worst thing that her father's death did to her was the way it affected her mother. She never seemed to care much for Arya after that. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She cared; cared about the person she wanted Arya to be. As far as Islanzadi was concerned, the fact that Arya had no interest in politeness and pleasantries and being a proper Drottingu was a personal insult. Arya wondered how Evandar and Islanzadi had ever ended up mates; she took after her father and she and her mother were nothing alike.

Could this have been her fault? Well, she certainly couldn't have saved Evandar, and how could she have possibly changed her mother's personality? No, this disaster was down to Guntera.

What about Faloin? Her faithful friend. Her perfect storybook one true love. The exact kind of person she should have always dreamed of being with. Even her mother had approved of him. They'd known each other since childhood, had just about everything in common, fallen in love and then...he just died. He meant everything to her and in that one instant he was taken away. Was that her fault?

She could have stopped it. She should have stayed with him, defended him, taken the arrow herself. She had been overconfident and careless and the result had been more pain than even the loss of her father had caused.

Next of course was her torture at the hands of Durza. She had come close to death and even worse she had almost...almost gone mad. She had been hallucinating, crying at random intervals and hoping for death. Yes, that event certainly qualified as tragic.

Her fault! It was all her own fault. She hadn't been quick enough, strong enough and fast enough and for that she paid with her entire soul. Her time in Gi'lead changed her completely. She used to laugh, sing, dance, love...and in those terrible weeks it all changed. Everything her life had been was destroyed in those horrible days.

Then of course she met Eragon. The bumbling, helpless hero. Great among humans but almost laughable among elves. And he was totally infatuated with Arya, whom he thought to be beautiful and exotic. Of course she hadn't felt the same! He was barely out of childhood by her standards. And then over a few short years he'd seen and done so much; he'd _grown _so much. He'd changed her, helped her get over all she'd lost in his own way. He'd defeated the black tyrant and become the greatest hero Alagesia had ever known. She'd had a chance to be with him! Most women would have given anything for that, especially women who knew him. She'd turned him down with no idea what it would mean for her future. She got stuck as the queen of the elves, and then he'd just told her he was going to _leave. _After everything. Leave! How could he? But then of course, that was her fault. He'd had nothing to stay for! And she couldn't come. And that day when he sailed away was the worst day of her life. She'd loved him after all but as usual she'd failed to act.

After he'd left she'd felt completely hollow in a way she never had before. She didn't eat or sleep for days. Then of course, her duty called and, as always, it consumed her. She tried to become absorbed in the tasks she performed as queen, but they were not activities that were easy to be interested in. Whatever she did, she couldn't she couldn't shake the feeling of crushing loneliness that his departure left her with.

Her life became more and more miserable after that; an endless string of pointless pleasantries and shallow words that meant nothing. Most of her time was consumed by tedious meetings with her maddeningly aloof council. Arya had spent so much time around humans; around one human in particular that she had become accustomed to their ways: she was used to people saying what they meant and not trying to weave every word into a dangerous game. Worst of all were the manners: the never-ending preset greetings and phrases. Elves, though they rarely said what they actually meant due to the nature of their language, were by far the most predictable race in Alagesia from Arya's point of view. You always knew what they were going to say because the manners and expectations were so rigid that conversations were rarely very different from each other.

She had often wandered what her life would have been like if she wasn't queen of the elves. She started to blame Eragon for her current predicament. He had left her, completely and totally, to go on and live this new life she was trapped in. But the more she thought about it, the more she began to realize that it had nothing to do with Eragon. Since the day they'd met she'd been distant from him. He hadn't actually left her, because thanks to her rejection, he had no reason to think he was leaving anything. As far as he knew, she had no interest in him whatsoever. Again, that concept was her fault. It was only a few months before he'd left that he'd given up on trying to have a romantic relationship with her. He'd been so persistent but she'd still driven him away. Of course, she hadn't even been aware of her own feelings for him until he'd left and she realized how much she was missing.

Maybe, if she hadn't been so stubbornly shutting out her emotions, things would have been different. In fact, she was almost certain they would have been. Eragon had always accepted her and cared for her even when she had treated him harshly. It was her own actions which had driven her into this predicament, nobody else's. She couldn't even put it down to fate or luck any longer. She had ruined her own life, despite all the chances she'd been given to set things on the right path and now there was no going back.

Arya stifled a sob, though nobody was listening. She remembered the times when, in her anger, she had cursed Eragon for doing this to her. Though nobody had been around to hear her, she still felt ashamed for blaming him.

She stood up and walked to her balcony. It was a few hours before dawn, and the world was engulfed in the grey twilight that separates the morning from the night. The wind blew hard in her face and she could make out dark clouds in the sky. A storm was brewing.

"I'm sorry." She whispered to the wind. "I'm so sorry." And she was sorry. For not leaving with Eragon and then for blaming him for her own mistake. Before she could stop it, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Thunder boomed overhead.

Arya strode briskly through the forest towards the great hall where their councils were held. Though the sun had risen, the forest was still in twilight as the storm clouds were now right overhead. Rain fell steadily through the canopy and onto the elves on the ground. Most of the elves there had the good sense to cast a spell that would deflect the rain and leave them completely dry, but Arya was too preoccupied with thoughts of Eragon.

Since he had left just over a year ago, Eragon had spoken to her exactly twice. Both times it was to discuss the state of new riders who were ready to undertake the journey to New Vrorengard aboard the _Talita_. He had exchanged the usual pleasantries, asked how her people were fairing, but never anything more personal than that. Arya supposed he couldn't be blamed for being so distant. She smiled ruefully at the cruel irony of the situation: how the tables had turned.

Still, his lack of contact only intensified the feeling of loneliness that she always carried with her these days. She was a dragon rider, sharing one of the most intimate connections between two beings that could possibly exist and yet she felt more alone than ever.

Without Firnen, Arya wasn't sure she could have coped. The sheer weight of her people's expectations might have crushed her if she had nobody to share the load with. She admired her dragon for his patience: no matter how miserable she felt, he had always been there for her. Perhaps things would have been different if she was more like that.

"_Perhaps," _interrupted Firnen, _"may be the most common word that you ever think of."_

"_I can't help it Firnen," _she replied sadly. "_It's impossible to think about the life I could have had."_

"_You mean it's impossible not to think about Eragon." _He corrected.

Arya was silent at that. After all of the misery she'd felt, Eragon had become a topic Firnen rarely discussed and when they did it was in vague terms.

"_Little one," _he said exasperatedly, _"you obviously can't stand this. Why linger here? Why not leave and go back to him?"_

Arya sighed, both outwardly and mentally. This was a conversation they'd had many times before.

"_You know what the council is like. They would never let me."_

"_They would not dare stand against me" _Firnen replied, sounding slightly offended that she had suggested he would not be able to drive off 'a few puny two-legs.'

"_You know that's not what I mean." _said Arya. "_they wouldn't be that direct about it. But they wouldn't give in either."_

"_If they cannot understand the word 'no' then I shall deal with them" _Said Firnen, a hint of menace in his voice. They both detested the council, who in truth had nothing in their hearts but deviousness.

"_I know, Firnen." _She said wearily. _"But there's no way it could work." _

That wasn't entirely true. She _could _have gone to the council and resigned her position, ignoring all their complaints and arguments, and simply leave. But if she did, would she still get what she wanted?

She doubted Eragon felt the same any more. Who would? She had rejected him so many times. Now, it had come to the point where they barely spoke at all, and when they did it was official business. Arya remembered the conversations perfectly: his eyes no longer held the same warmth and softness they once had when he'd looked at her. His voice had been stiff and formal, as if they weren't even friends any more.

"_Well," _Firnen said evenly, _"You haven't contacted him either. You're not exactly helping your chances of becoming his mate, are you?"_

Arya blushed slightly. Dragons were hardly subtle when it came to matters of love.

"_Arya, I see how much this distresses you._ _If you will not leave, then you should at least visit him. It will do you good."_

Arya considered the possibility wistfully for a second, but then shook her head sadly. _"How? It would just put both of us through pain when I had to leave again."_

Though she wouldn't admit it, Arya knew that Firnen secretly desired that once she got to New Vrorengard the pain of leaving again would be too much and she'd stay.

"_You think about that like it would be a bad outcome!" _Said Firnen. Arya blushed deeper. _"Perhaps you are forgetting how, ah, curious I can be." _He said, with the mental equivalent of a smile. She could hardly hide anything from Firnen when he had a mind to find it. Still, she felt embarrassed.

She really did want to go, but would Eragon still love her? Would they even be friends? She knew the prospect of him not loving her any more would truly break her heart.

"_Well," said Firnen gently, "Is it not better to know for sure? The alternative is that you sit here and slowly diminish in your misery."_

Arya was startled: he'd never put the situation so frankly before.

"_Your sadness is unhealthy." _He said in response to her thoughts. "_I have watched you closely, Arya. It hurts to see you in such pain. You are ill, Arya. I just want you to be cured."_

Arya had no reply for that. Firnen was right: she felt physically drained. She rarely smiled any more, didn't eat or drink as much as she used to.

"_Arya. If nothing else, at least contact him." _Said Firnen. _"I know you want to see him again. Maybe you could even discuss the possibility of you paying a visit..."_

Thankfully, an elf crossed her path at that very moment and, predictably, muttered the traditional greeting.

"_Well," _said Firnen after they had finished, _"that was timely for you I'm sure. But what do you think?"_

Arya continued to walk slowly in silence. A whole minute passed before she replied "_Firnen, I...Very well. I shall try."_


	2. Old Enemies

**Hello again! Firstly, I knew I said I'd wait till I got 10 reviews, but you guys have given me such a great response so quickly I'm going to update this one anyway. Again, thanks to Tamerlain85 for being such a huge help. On that subjects, I hereby, in accordance with the treaty of the Circle of Circles, would like to suggest you read his stories; Half Breed and Dragon Rider of Time. Seriously, these are really great reads that I'm sure you'll enjoy!**

**Also, thankyou Mark Silverwing for getting me to write a better blurb! **

**Finally, well done N-Six for being the first to figure out my little mystery! Even if you do figure it out, you still won't be on N-Six's level. N-Six was first. N-Six can now look at you in a superior fashion because N-Six knows lots of juicy plot points that you don't! But you can still know those things, if you read Life, Alagesia and Everything, drop a review, and answer my question! **

**And, without further ado...**

It hadn't been a good day. Arya had walked into the council chambers and, as usual, everyone had stood respectfully. She had then spent the whole day on that rather uncomfortable throne (they didn't call it "knotted" for nothing) discussing pathetically petty disputes between the houses. How they could possibly argue that long without getting anywhere was beyond her. As Firnen put in, she probably should have tried to help more, but when it came to these people, her heart just wasn't in it.

To pass the time while the other elves paid little attention to her she and Firnen had collectively brooded on how she was going to converse with Eragon. For Firnen, this had been even more trying than the council meeting had been for her.

"_Here's an idea." _He had said, _"Why don't you ask him how he is? I hear that is how most two-legs start their conversations."_

Firnen simply could not get why that just would not do. In a year she hadn't even tried to contact him, which was probably why he wouldn't in turn contact her which, ironically, was why she hadn't the nerve to contact him. Unfortunately, this kind of train of thought was one a dragon could not possibly comprehend.

"_Arya, there are not many people in Alagesia who can possibly comprehend that train of thought."_

"_If you're not going to help..."_

"_I am trying to help! But I don't see why you're getting so stressed over a simple.."_

"_It is anything but simple, Firnen! What can I possibly say to him?"_

And so on throughout the day. In the end they had settled for a routine of traditional elven greeting ("But would that seem too formal and distant?") then asking after the state of the riders, then his own wellbeing, and then, finally, whether she would be able to visit for a while. There had been much debate as to what reason she should state for her visit, though the conclusion had eventually been that she wouldn't say if she wasn't asked. ("But what if I am asked? What do I say then?")

"_Improvise." _Firnen had replied, poorly hiding his mental smirk at the open horror Arya displayed at that suggestion.

Despite all that though, by the time the elves had decided that they could not possibly argue in polite and clipped tones any longer without taking a break (which was a rare enough occurrence) Arya had a basic idea of what she was going to say to Eragon. Not that it made her any less nervous about it.

It must have been evening by the time Arya was striding out of the council chambers, her back stiff, sore and, of course, knotted, in the direction of Tialdari hall, but it was difficult to tell. Rain still fell, consistently heavy, and the clouds still obscured the sky. Arya thought absentmindedly about the weather of late to take her mind off things.

It was interesting because it seemed to be perfectly reflecting the way she felt, which was miserable, sad and depressed. The thunderclouds persistently blocked out the sun as completely as possible. And, like her mood, the weather had been getting progressively worse. What started off as a few downpours and deluges was now becoming something of a storm-festival. The clouds now had an unfriendly feel to them; they were particularly black and ominous and seemed to be blocking out the sun on purpose. It was usually dark in Ellesmera but now, compared to everywhere else, it was like a perpetual twilight. The torches were lit all day long and most people had been inside their warm houses for the whole day.

She amused herself for a minute by imagining what the dwarves would think of this. Of course, it would all be down to some grumpy god who wanted them to worship them even more or give them more red gold or something. That insufferable Gannel would be in his temple twenty-four seven, trying to flatter and bribe Guntera into improving the situation.

The whole idea was completely repulsive to Arya. Gannel, one of the leading figures in dwarven society, demanded a huge supply of gold and goats to fill that temple of his so he could appease a god while there were multitudes of his people who needed that wealth to get by in life. Yet they gave to Gannel and Guntera without question. The injustice of it all was maddening, but there was nothing she could do.

She was nearing Tialdari hall now and couldn't distract herself any longer. The dread was setting in. She would have to talk to Eragon now, after she and Firnen had spent so long discussing it. There was no going back. But back was a nice, safe place where she would really rather be. She had never been so nervous about anything for as long as she could remember.

On the other hand, she was excited too. It had been months since she'd seen Eragon's face and she yearned to see it again. She wanted to talk to him, learn about his life, but most of all, she wanted to feel like she was near him, because being near Eragon was synonymous with being happy and safe.

But she could hardly forget that it didn't seem like he felt the same. Both times they had talked he had made the conversation as short and formal as possible, as if he had better things to do than speak to her. That thought made her feel sick, so she just settled on the idea that he didn't want to prolong the pain of their separation.

But she couldn't help but wonder if there was another reason. Since she'd given him every reason to believe they had no chance of having a relationship, had he moved on? Had some beautiful human woman caught his eye, or maybe one of the elven maidens? She knew this was a definite possibility. Any woman, human or elf, would have counted herself blessed to have the opportunity to be with him. It was only after he left that she realized that she felt exactly the same.

What if he had found someone else; someone who had accepted him from the start?

"_Arya." _Firnen's voice was soothing. _"I heard him speak his true name to you. The kind of love displayed there is not one that is easily forgotten." _

"_But he heard my true name as well. Why would he continue loving me if he knew for certain that I didn't love him back?" _

Firnen sent her the mental equivalent of a smile. _"I do not think he could have stopped loving you. If you don't believe that, look at all the times when you have, rather stupidly may I add, rejected him outright. That all happened before you knew his true name, and yet when you did, it said that he still loved you." _

Firnen's words were small comfort though. His heart was human, and human hearts are easily swayed.

"_Arya, how many times has Eragon proved wrong your preconceptions about humans; your preconceptions about him? I would have thought you'd have learned to treat them with more respect after your experiences in the war." _

Firnen was right. She should have more respect for humans; more respect for Eragon now. He had proven her wrong so many times. But the truth was that her rejection of him had been so absolute that she'd expect anyone, human, dwarf, urgal or elf to have taken the hint and given up by now. To have moved on. Arya could not help thinking Eragon would probably be better off with many other women: women who'd accept him and want him and love him as much as she did now but not be afraid to show it. How could he not have fallen for someone in the intervening year?

She walked through the ornately carved doors to the hall and, of course, everyone bowed and launched into the traditional greetings, therefore she had an extra five minutes before she managed to make it to her quarters. They passed all too quickly.

She was now in her own quarters. If she'd had it her way they would have been devoid of anything she didn't need but the elves had insisted on furnishing it with fine purple rugs and other stately items, perhaps to remind her that there wasn't anywhere she could escape her position.

The other elves, no matter how hard she fought or how plainly refused, always seemed to get their way; they were in total control. Perhaps spending so much time around humans and dwarves had softened her skills at dealing with her own kind. This was obviously a problem for her now but she didn't regret being around those people. Though often crude and uncivilized, Arya secretly thought that they were often purer, better people than the elves. Her people were forever plotting and scheming and their words always had a double meaning. The humans and the dwarves, on the other hand, said what they meant and were usually honest in their intentions. Even if they were lying, an elf could easily see it in their eyes. They were, by nature, more honest races. And for that she almost wished she had never left them.

No, come to think of it, she absolutely wished she had never left them. In her time as ambassador she had met good, if unusual people and even the bad ones had never made her feel as trapped as she did now. The elves never overtly tried to control her, and that made it even worse. Instead, they subtly manipulated her, making her feel as though her life was never truly her own. From little things to the decoration of her chambers to much larger ones, like, for example, her becoming queen in the first place.

Of course, she'd never wanted to. From the second she'd become a dragon rider she'd known that the two positions would be incompatible. A dragon rider should not owe their allegiance to any single race and a queen should not have to also attend to the responsibilities of being part of the order. Arya was sure the elves on the council had seen this, but still they had pressured her into becoming queen because they clearly thought that she would be easy to manipulate due to her young age. Perhaps they were right. As a queen she was merely a figurehead: no matter what she said or did the council would always pressure her into one decision or another. As a dragon rider, she was next to an invalid. All she did was administer to the basic training of new recruits. Was that how she was doomed to live? Having only two halves of two separate worlds that did not fit together?

No, she thought, she had to change that. She was not happy here. And since she could hardly stop being a dragon rider...

She was getting ahead of herself. She hadn't even talked to Eragon yet. Didn't even know how he felt. And of course, if he felt ill towards her, and she had a horrible suspicion he did, she would be stuck here forever. Going to New Vrorengard would be even worse than staying where she was.

All these thoughts were driving her mad. It was time for action; she couldn't put it off for any longer. She sat down at the ornately carved chair which faced the table upon which was the scrying mirror. This was it.

"_If you want to impress Eragon, I suggest we work a little on your appearance."_

Firnen was right! She had to look her best for this.

Seemingly right on cue, her handmaiden Tiadel entered the chamber, carrying the usual assortment of berries Arya was partial to. Tiadel was unusual in that she was generally a lot nicer than the other elves and, besides feeling strictly bound to serve Arya, actually seemed to like her as well. She was, along with Firnen, what made her life bearable.

"My lady! I heard you were in the council chamber all day today. I thought you might like some on these."

Arya smiled and took the offered berries, suddenly realizing how hungry she had been.

"Thanks, Tia." She said, eating quickly as said handmaiden scurried off to fetch a glass of water. Returning, she suddenly seemed to realize the meaning of where Arya was sitting.

"Official business, my lady?"

"Not exactly."

"Talking to Eragon, my lady?"

"How did you guess?"

"That's your Eragon face, my lady. Well, we ought to get you into a better dress. Your hair could do with some work too; just give me a moment..."

That was a perfect example of why Tia was so different. She didn't expect Arya to be a queen all the time, and accepted that she was a real person as well. Tia had cottoned on to her feelings for Eragon well before she herself had and, often to Arya's dismay, their conversations often drifted in his direction. Tia, like Firnen, quite clearly thought that Arya would be better off with him and often dropped subtle hints on the matter.

She also seemed rather determined to make it happen, and Arya knew it was purely an act of friendship: something Tia was trying to do for her sake. Being her personal handmaiden Tia was expected to serve her quietly and efficiently, but what she did as her friend was a thousand times more valuable to Arya.

"Green or blue? Hmmm, what to go with? If you wear the green one then..."

They continued in this manner for what Arya guessed was a good half hour. When it came down to looks, Tia was something of an expert, so Arya didn't question any of her decisions. The handmaiden seemed absolutely determined to get everything about her looks exactly correct. It was as if Arya was going to some kind of ball or something, not looking through a mirror and talking.

"You look absolutely brilliant, my lady." She said, apparently finally satisfied with Arya's looks. Arya could hardly blame her; she'd done a great job. She really did look beautiful, but in a natural sort of way as if she wasn't trying very hard to look good and this was simply her normal appearance. She wore a flowing green dress, which, despite being Arya's favourite colour for obvious reasons, bought out her eyes. Her hair wasn't tied up but flowed around down around her shoulder normally, but Tia had made a few adjustments that seemed to make it look far better.

"Well," she said, leading Arya back into the room with the scrying mirror, "I'm sure Eragon will be extremely impressed, my lady. I take it you have already worked out a conversation plan?"

Arya smiled. "In the council meeting, naturally."

"Did Firnen help?"

"Yes."

"Good." Tia smiled, and left the room without another word.

Arya sat down and looked at the mirror, trying to keep herself from shaking.

"_Breathe deeply in and out."_

"_Shut up!" _

But Arya couldn't help but smile. Firnen had a way of cheering her up, even at moments like this.

"New Vrorengard." She said, imbuing the words with magic. This connected the mirror with its twin, the one on New Vrorengard. The one in Eragon's office.

The mirror slowly transitioned from showing her own face to showing the back of Eragon's office. She tried to wait patiently, taking in the scene to calm herself down.

Eragon's office was sparsely decorated, and packed with books and scrolls of every kind. She knew that Eragon had enjoyed reading and writing, but not enough to have an office seemingly devoted to it. She looked around, trying to see if she could get any other insights into Eragon's life which she knew so little about now. However, her view was suddenly blocked by someone standing in front of the mirror. And he was furry.

"Ah, your majesty!" Said Blodhgarm, taking a seat and immediately launching into the traditional greeting of the elves.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin,"  
"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr,"  
"Un du evarínya ono varda,"

However, there seemed to be something different about his demeanour. His words were hasty and a little sharp.

Arya immediately noticed once she saw his face the Blodhgarm was frowning deeply; something that looked rather terrifying on his wolfish features.

"I apologize your majesty but I cannot talk long. I was about to contact you. We were just payed a visit by some members of a dwarven clan known as...well, they _were _known as Az Sweldn Rak Anhûin. Perhaps you have heard of them?"

Arya nodded. These were the dwarves who had tried to block Orik's ascension to the throne. She went cold as she remembered Eragon's account of the veiled assassins who had attempted to assassinate him with the enchanted daggers.

"I have heard of them, Blodhgarm-elda. Have you...did they give you trouble?"

But judging by the look on Blodhgarm's face, Arya had a horrible suspicion that they had. She remembered that Eragon was in part responsible for their banishment and exile from the dwarven kingdom and how they hated dragons and their riders.

"Trouble? You could call it that, my lady. But I call it an act of war."

"What...what happened?"

"It's Eragon-elda." He said shakily. Arya felt the blood drain from her face. "They took him. We don't know where."

**Remember, if you liked this, read Half Breed and Dragon Rider of Time! If you didn't like this, the same! **


	3. Preparations

**Hi again! Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to review this story-it means a lot! And, of course, thanks to Tamerlain85 for helping me so much! **

**And, on the subject of Tamerlain, remember to read his stories, Half Breed and Dragon rider of time! If you're the betting type, then all my worldly possessions say you'll like them! It's the Ciiircle of Circles! **

**Also, I realize that these first few chapters are mostly about feelings and emotions and I apologize for that, but make no mistake, there will be WAR! Stay tuned for that! **

"W-what?"

"Eragon is missing!" Blodhgarm said, fury plain in his voice. "Those infernal dwarves came right up to us, killed Yaela and took Eragon."

"They...they killed.."

"Yaela was one of my best spellcasters! But they killed her with their cursed daggers before she knew what hit her. Then they took Eragon from his chambers. We tried to stop them but..."

A look of great pain came upon Blodgharm's face: a rare thing for an elf, especially one with as much self-control as Blodhgarm, however Arya knew it was nothing compared to the one she was displaying.

She was completely distraught. She knew those cursed dwarves hated Eragon. What if he was already dead? No, that was too much to bear. They would have taken him as a hostage, or maybe they'd torture him for information...

Firnen had to forcibly drive that thought from her mind as she threatened to break down completely. The idea of Eragon being tortured was one she just couldn't handle.

"Well, they can't have gotten far! Surely your riders.."

"None of the dragons are strong enough to fly out over the ocean. We've tried to trace them but they left no tracks. Now they're off the island and they could have gone anywhere on the water; back to Alagesia or to another island; anywhere!" Blodhgarm half screamed.

Arya had never seen another elf lose control like this. Was it exceptional pain or had spending time on New Vrorengard changed him-made him more emotionally free like the humans and dwarves? Did he laugh now? Did he find enjoyment and happiness in his new life?

Then he looked directly into her eyes, and the intensity of his stare was paralysing. "Arya, we need you now. Not as a queen, but as a rider. Firnen is the only dragon who can cover large distances and you're the most experienced rider we have. Moreover, with the exception of Murtagh, you are the senior rider now. And since Murtagh is off who knows where, you are the leader of the order until Eragon's return."

All was silent for several seconds as Arya tried to comprehend the enormity of that statement. The first thing that hit her was that he had addressed her by her own name, not the usual 'Your Highness/Majesty.' Then she started to think about the full meaning of his words, as she was now forced to do once again living in Ellesmera. Blodhgarm had just stated, quite plainly, that _she _was now their leader. Arya wondered if he truly meant that she was the leader because she was the senior rider or whether he was giving her a hint. An opportunity, even. Blodhgarm could lead the riders well enough and Arya knew that he was Eragon's second-in-command. So, was he giving her an excuse to leave Ellesmera and help search for Eragon? Arya couldn't tell. His face was now devoid of emotion, and he simply stared at her, waiting for a response.

Arya nodded slowly and hesitantly, her mind almost immediately made up. Perhaps this decision was overly hasty, perhaps it would cost her later, but she didn't care. Eragon was missing, and she had to get him back. That was all she knew, all she cared about. The elves could say what they would; they were not going to sway her this time. Nothing could.

"Thank you." She almost whispered. Blodhgarm acknowledged with a slight nod. They both knew what he'd done and no further explanation was needed.

"So...What about Saphira?"

Blodgharm's face darkened once more. "They...they made a point of injuring her. They did not kill her if only because they did not have the time, but they hurt her enough that by the time we could heal her they would be long gone. She will survive, I think, but whatever enchantments are on those daggers are horribly effective. She is weak; and though she will not admit it, there is no way that the will be able to pursue her rider for weeks."

Arya heard Firnen roar; both mentally and physically. As for the physical part, Arya was sure that everyone in Ellesmera heard it. Firnen's agony upon hearing his mate's predicament was unleashed in a furious, booming roar that echoed endlessly through the forest. Arya knew it would take only seconds for elves to start rushing to his side to see if he was wounded.

Arya did her best to pull herself together; she had to be strong for him like he had always been strong for her.

"_We'll get her rider back, Firnen." _She said earnestly. _"She will be okay."_

"_But the ones who hurt her will not." _Firnen replied, deadly serious. _"I shall make them know her pain before I kill them. They will burn!" _And Arya knew he meant it.

"Blodhgarm, we don't have much time. Every second we waste our enemies get further from our grasp. You must see to the search of the surrounding islands. Firnen and I shall find them if they have returned to Alagesia."

Blodhgarm nodded stiffly. "I agree. You should pack and get some rest tonight and leave tomorrow. I shall go now to prepare the ship. There is much work to be done. Make sure you take your mirror so that we can stay in contact. Until next time, chancellor." And with that, the mirror showed Arya's own reflection once more.

Taking in her own reflection, she realized just how distraught she looked. Her face was white and she could see herself shaking. Tears threatened to fall, but she couldn't let them. She had to move fast; Eragon's life could have depended on it.

Tia rushed back into the scrying room. "Your majesty, I heard Firnen roar. Arya stood and turned to face her, and seeing Arya's face Tia's face fell from a worried expression into an almost terrified one. "Your majesty, what happened?

"Lord Eragon is missing." She said simply. All colour left Tia's face. "Kidnapped." She finished, and Tia's eyes widened.

Tia opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, a look of new resolution on her face. "I'll go to the kitchens and get them to prepare you some food for travel." And she ran out of the room at full speed.

Mimicking Tia, Arya thought no more about the matter and got to business. She could be upset when there was no work left to be done and not before. Luckily, this was how she'd lived her life for a long time. Duty first, emotions later. It was only when she met-

No, she would not think about him. She hastily began to find her old black travelling leathers, and laid them out so she could quickly dress in them the next morning. She took Tamerlian, unused for over a year, and placed it neatly by their side. Tia soon arrived back again after asking the kitchens to have a bottle of Faelnirv and several of the elves' special travelling biscuits, **(Yes, like Lembas) **among other things, to be bought to the queen's quarters. Arya then sent her to make sure the council knew her intentions. She was not going to leave it open for debate: she would not ask them whether she should or could leave but rather tell them she was going to. After all, she was the queen. Perhaps they could even do some good for once and offer her some help.

While she was gone, Arya busied herself preparing her saddle bags. A warm overcoat for flying. A map of Alagesia. In the middle of her preparations, Lord Dathedr burst in babbling a thousand reasons why she could not go: It was not proper, her people needed her guidance, their queen must be kept safe and so on. Arya barely registered any of it. For once, nothing the elf said was going to have any effect on her. She continued packing in silence while he continued to talk, and once, after about ten minutes, he had finally run out of reasons, she turned, her expression unreadable and said to him calmly

"My duty is first to the order of the dragon riders in a time of emergency, Lord Dathedr." He opened his mouth to protest but she raised her hand, cutting him off. "You will not sway me. I am needed by the order more than I am needed by my people. You will be in charge in my absence. Sit on the throne if you like. Now leave me."

Dathedr may have been persistent, but he could at least judge his queen's mood and know when he was dismissed. With an unusually small, terse bow, he turned on his heel and left.

Tia returned and for the next half hour they worked manically as the sky became truly dark and the sun set. It was a moonless, starless night and the rain continued to fall, if anything more heavily. The wind picked up to a roar and lightning crackled across the sky. Firnen, who usually preferred to sleep outside, was forced into Tialdari hall for shelter. It was a challenge for him to even stay on the ground as the wind kept pulling his wings open. In the end, Arya devised a spell to keep them clamped to his body until he got inside.

"Your majesty, if the weather continues like this..."

"Then we will still fly at first light tomorrow." Said Arya determinedly.

"You'll freeze to death!"

"Better than dying of boredom here." Arya said drily, and they both smiled.

At last, after a good hour of packing, they were finished. Arya turned to Tia.

"Thank you, Tia. For everything."

"Don't mention it." She smiled. "I shall see you when you return."

And with that Tia left.

Gradually, the smile Arya had been wearing as she and Tia worked and talked faded. Now she had nothing to occupy her mind, her thoughts drifted back to Eragon. What if he was dead? What if he died certain that she still had no feelings for him? The idea was horrible. If they hadn't killed him, what would they do to him? What if they held him hostage for a price they couldn't pay? No, they would pay any price. Would they torture him? Arya knew what it felt like to be tortured. If that did happen, what would it do to his mind? Would they break him? No, Eragon would never give up. His will was stronger perhaps than even her own. But if they managed to get him out, would he even be the same person, or would he have changed just like she had?

What would he be like after being tortured? Would he still care for her? Would he even know her name? Arya knew that after being tortured for extended periods, you started to forget things. Forget people. She would never admit it but she had suffered a period of disorientation herself when she first came to in Farthen Dûr.

"_Arya, stop this."_ Interjected Firnen, his voice stern. "We know nothing about the situation yet and brooding on it will only upset you. You'll be less focused on helping Eragon if you're too busy wondering about what might happen to him. There is no sense in brooding on something you do not know about and cannot change."

Arya knew he was right, so she tried to keep her mind off it and changed into her night dress. There was nothing else to do, so she lay down in bed and tried to focus on the sound of the storm outside.

The more she did, the more she realized just how strange the weather was. The wind was still picking up, roaring and howling through the trees and whipping the branches. Every so often, a groan or a sharp _snap _could be heard, signifying that a tree or branch had fallen. Thunder boomed so loudly that the frame of the building shook. Lightning flashed every few seconds and the rain was coming down more heavily than ever, drumming on the roof of intertwined trees to hard it sounded more like hail.

But it wasn't just the storm. The air seemed unnaturally cold, as if it was winter and snow was falling. Arya pulled the thick, lavishly decorated quilt further up to keep the cold out. But through all the fury of the storm, her thoughts couldn't stay off Eragon. She was so worried about him she felt physically sick. Her emotions boiled up inside her until she was at breaking point and finally she began to sob softly into her pillow. Not just because Eragon was in danger and may already be gone forever, but because of all her past choices and failures. Yet another thing had separated them: another barrier between herself and happiness. For she knew now that the only way she would truly be happy would be to be with Eragon.

For once, Firnen did not try to comfort her. He probably thought that if she needed to get rid of her emotions it was better for her to do it now than later. Arya agreed: it would not do to break down like this when Eragon needed her. Now, more than ever, she would have to stay strong. But at that moment she could do nothing but drown in her total misery.


	4. Monsters in the Dark

**Hi again guys! Well, here I am with a nice long chapter! And, finally, we're starting to get out of the fillers and into the real story. **

**Now that's happening, I've had to do quite a bit of thinking on the plot of this story just so I can get my ideas into order. Also, I've been on holidays for the whole time I've been writing this, but it's back to school in about a week so those two things may be slowing my update speed. (Additionally, now we're out of the fillers the chapters may start to get longer, like this one, so that may also mean I don't update as frequently.) Nevertheless, stay with me, because we're just getting to the interesting part now! **

**You may also want to know that I do not plan to have this as the only story about this stuff. There's a really great story I want to write here and I'm not sure one book's going to cut it! So, hopefully, we'll be looking at a series! **

**Remember also to read Tamerlain85's story, Half Breed, as well as Switching Lanes by Elemental Dragon Slayer! It's the circle of circles!**

**Finally, remember to check out my "encyclopedia" to this story, Life, Alagesia and Everything and try and answer the two questions at the end. Great glory and riches await you! Well, not really. **

**I hope you like this chapter, it took me quite a while to write! If not though, please speak your mind that I can improve! **

The next morning she awoke after several periods of short unrestful sleep. Between the crying, which had overwhelmed her at random intervals, and the storm, which had stubbornly continued at full strength well into the night, she had barely slept at all.

Still, on the whole she felt better. The raging storm had died down to a steady downpour and the thunder was now much less frequent and further off. Similarly, Arya's wholesale misery had died down to a sort of grim determination: whatever happened, she was going to get Eragon back.

Firnen was still asleep, but there was no need to wake him. The sun had not yet risen, and everything was already prepared. Therefore she decided to plan their next move to pass the time.

They were looking for dwarves, of course, so their logical first stop would be Trojheim.

Of all the dwarves, Orik was the one she could stand most. Maybe she even liked him. Surely he would know something about this clan. After all, Orik had been their adversaries during the war. Orik had been the one who'd banished them; so they were clearly Orik's enemies as well. Also, from what Arya knew, Orik was as good as a brother to Eragon, so he would be inclined to help her for honour if for nothing else.

As she arrived at this conclusion Firnen's mind began to stir. Looking out the window she saw that the sky was beginning to get lighter despite the heavy cloud cover. Standing up briskly, as if at some sudden command, she began to replace her night dress with her black travelling leathers. On went the boots and the gloves. She strapped her sword, Tamerlain, to her side. By the time she had finished getting ready Firnen was fully awake.

"_Rise and shine, sleepyhead." _He said with a mental smile.

"_You are absolutely insufferable." _Arya said, returning the mental gesture but actually allowing a small smile to grace her lips as well.

She strode out of her quarters carrying his saddle and saddlebags, which she began to strap on while Firnen was trying to stretch.

She strapped on her own knapsack and they went outside into the pouring rain. Arya contemplated whether a spell to alleviate the rain could be sustained over such a long journey, but soon decided that the cold would become unbearable if she didn't cast one. Quickly muttering the words, she mounted her dragon.

"_Would you like me to put the spell on you as well?" _

"_No! I like to feel the rain on my scales. It...makes them look shiny." _

Arya wondered if Saphira was this vain.

"_Females are far worse than us males." _Said Firnen. _"Your little friend Eragon had it far worse off than you. Not that a healthy interest in the appearance of one's scales is a bad thing..." _

Arya chuckled, both mentally and physically. _"Ready?" _

"_You know, Arya, since we're finally getting out of here...If we succeed, rescue Eragon, make him your mate..." _

"_Firnen!" _She said, blushing furiously.

"_Then perhaps...We could, well...Not return?" _

"_We...I... It's too much to think about right now."_

That wasn't exactly true; Arya had given it a lot of thought lately. If she could save Eragon, maybe she would have a second chance to be with him. And for her own sanity, she knew she'd have to take that chance.

If Firnen knew about her musing he didn't let on. Crouching low he kicked off the ground, hard, and with a few powerful flaps bought them above the tree tops.

Arya was glad she had cast the spell to ward off the rain; now they were above the protective canopy it had increased tenfold. Arya wondered what it would have been like to have been out in the open the previous day and suddenly she realized that they may well be put in that situation.

Firnen, on the other hand, was concentrating on flying towards the Beor mountains. He was moving at a steady pace; one he could keep up for days on end. Suddenly she was wondering just how long she could keep the rain off herself. If she had to cut the spell off the flight would be a miserable one.

"_Firnen," _she said, _"let's see if we can get above these clouds."_

"_Considering the amount of electricity that was in them yesterday, I don't think that's a good idea." _

"_Well, I haven't seen much lightning today..." _Thunder boomed, just to disprove her point.

"_You were saying?..." _

"_Well, unless you want your rider to freeze to death..." _she said defensively.

"_Given a choice between having you caught out in the rain and having you blasted by a bolt of lightning I will take your chances in the rain." _

And that settled it.

For the first few hours Arya enjoyed the flight with Firnen. Words were no longer necessary but now they were flying along together, as they very rarely did, they shared a feeling of silent companionship that went beyond what words could express. They were in the air, completely free, and that was how it should be.

However, Arya's spell to ward off the rain was taking its toll. As the sun began to set with Ellesmera far behind them and the trees beginning to thin down below, she was exhausted. Firnen had wanted to help but they both knew it would be counter-productive. Firnen needed his strength for the flight: the energy it would take to help Arya maintain the spell could mean the difference between Eragon's life and death.

"_Firnen, you'll have to land. I can't keep this up much longer. Is there anywhere sheltered we can spend the night?"_

"_I don't see anywhere, but in case you haven't noticed I rather enjoy the rain. Don't worry, my wings should make a rather effective tent."_

At this moment Arya almost wished she believed in the dwarven gods: at least then she would have someone to blame. The dark, unfriendly clouds still hadn't blown over or even thinned, and the rain showed no signs of abating.

Despite Firnen's assurances, Arya knew that the rain was starting to get to him. His body temperature was dropping, and if he hadn't been a dragon he would be in serious trouble. The fiery magic in his blood kept him warm to a certain extent, but the rain wasn't the biggest problem. The air itself seemed unnaturally cold, and even Firnen was not unaffected.

Even thought they were above the treetops the sky was unnaturally dark. When Firnen swooped below the trees, it might as well have been midnight. In Ellesmera, you couldn't go far without seeing a flameless lantern but here, out in the forest where only beasts lived, the effect of the clouds was complete. The continuous blowing of the wind through the trees coupled with the fact that the moon and stars seemed to be taking some time off and of course the periodic thunder gave the night an eerie quality to it. Even though it would only make the situation worse, Arya released the spell which was warding off the rain.

Firnen opened his wing and she crawled inside, sitting up against his warm body. From her knapsack she ate several berries and a few of the travelling biscuits. Though it was a meagre meal she found she had no real need for more: the sweet biscuits seemed to give her a sufficient amount of energy on their own. She then drank a little from her water skin. Tired as she was from a long day of flying and maintaining a spell, she quickly fell to sleep.

For the first few hours her waking dreams flitted from one thing to another, though Eragon seemed to be taking more than his fair share of her time. Then, suddenly, it all changed. The surreal quality of the dream shifted and everything came into clear focus. It was as if she was actually there and it was all real, except for one thing: she was standing outside her own body. She could see herself with her own eyes, right in front of her. It was as if she was just an observer who had no substance in the dream. She was watching from a bystander's perspective, unable to say or do anything.

She was standing on the pier leading to the Talita. With a sudden jolt she realized Eragon was there too. It was the day he'd left. Suddenly, she didn't want to have this dream any more. She tried to pull out, to wake up and return to the real world, but for some odd reason she couldn't.

Now they were approaching the moment she had dreaded; the climax of the event and the one thing that she couldn't bear to relive. But they were both there, just like before. And there was no coming out.

"Stay with me." Said Eragon.

There was silence. Arya knew what was coming next. How could this have happened? It would have been so simple, so very simple to have gone with him, to have dropped it all and left with him. Then everyone would have been happy, perhaps forever. Instead, she'd chosen the life that she was now forced to live. Chosen it, willingly!

The other Arya bore a look of confusion for several seconds, something she didn't remember. She knew for a fact she'd been wearing an emotionless mask, or at least her best attempt. Then the other Arya smiled happily. "Always." And she leant in and kissed him on the lips.

WHAT?

Then reality shifted. She was still observing herself, but now she could see herself sitting on a throne; a throne much higher and greater than even the knotted one in Ellesmera, and the throne was in a hall much mightier, grander and more beautiful than any she had seen. But everything was so real! There were 6 other thrones besides her own, all arranged in a straight line and occupied by beings much fairer than the elves whose faces she had never seen before. To her left was the greatest and grandest throne, which was in the centre of the line. Beyond that, there were three more thrones. To her right there were two more thrones.

And in front of the thrones, there was a multitude of people, hundreds of them, maybe even thousands, all of them fairer and greater than any of the elves, radiating power and beauty the like of which she had never seen. And she hadn't seen one of them in her life. On every face there was a smile. Then, suddenly, they all sank to their knees and tilted their heads downwards in a bow. They were bowing to _her. _

And at that moment the vision vanished and her eyes snapped open.

"_Firnen?"_

Her dragon, she discovered, was fast asleep. She wondered how long the vision had taken as time was different in dreams. Perhaps that small vision had taken her hours, but she didn't think so. It had all seemed so real that it certainly wasn't just a dream.

"_Firnen? Firnen, wake up!"_

Slowly, she felt her dragon's consciousness stir. _"Yes, Arya?"_

"_Did...Did you see that?"_

"_You mean the Eragon fantasies? Yes, those are forced upon me every night, Arya."_

Arya was glad nobody was there to see her as she was sure that even in the dark her cheeks would have appeared crimson.

"_No, I mean, the other things! The vision! The thrones, and..."_

"_I have no idea what you're talking about."_

Arya exhaled. So it wasn't just a dream. It had been something else. But she hadn't experienced anything like that before. She shared her memories of the vision with Firnen.

"_Well," _he said, _"That first one looks like what you dream about just about every night."_

"No, it wasn't!" She protested. "_You didn't see it, and everything was just so...So real! And I've never dreamed of it happening like that before!"_

"_Do you have a point?"_

That was the thing. All Arya knew was that it was different. She didn't know what to make of what she'd seen. Especially the second one. Coming to think of it, she may have recognised some of those faces. But who were they? While some were very familiar, she could place any of them. It was as if they were people she should know but they were different enough that she couldn't quite recognize them at a glance. On the other hand, most of the faces she was certain she had never seen. They had all been so real that she couldn't have made them up.

If she had to say, the people who had been bowing to her looked most like elves than any of the other races, but in truth they looked quite different. Not even the elves could come close to comparing to their stature; their obvious splendour and power. It seemed profoundly _wrong_ that they had been bowing to her; Arya felt sure that it should have been the other way around.

However, studying the vision more closely, Arya realized that _she _was different too, in the same way that the people who seemed so familiar but not recognizable were different. In fact, she looked a lot like them. And, she realized, the difference was a good one. Her skin had glowed, her hair had shimmered and her eyes had been brighter. Her features were softer and less angled, her eyes rounder and less slanted. It was as if someone had improved everything about her, even the smallest things. The result was she might not have even recognized herself if she hadn't known she'd been dreaming.

It had all meant something, something important, but whatever it was it escaped Arya.

"_Arya, you should not brood on this dream or vision or whatever it was. It will not bring you truth or knowledge. If there is some important meaning behind it, then we cannot work it out on our own. If we do find the answer, it will not be through looking." _

Grudgingly, Arya had to agree. No matter how she looked at it, this vision was incomprehensible; full of things that she hadn't even imagined before. Perhaps that was what intrigued her about it, but at the same time there wasn't anything she could do to understand it better. Besides, she had a mission to complete.

"_Is it daytime? It's impossible to tell under these clouds, trees and wings." _

Firnen paused for a few seconds, presumably taking in their surroundings. Arya heard him sniff the air. Then he said _"as best I can tell, it is a few hours before dawn. But I really can't say. The sun could have risen hours ago for all I know. These clouds are getting on my nerves!" _

Arya frowned. The clouds were still overhead? The rain seemed to have given out, for once, and Arya assumed that the storm had finally blown over during the night. She wondered about the freak weather. It should have been the beginning of summer, and yet all was dark. She had never seen this kind of weather before and something seemed profoundly _wrong _about it.

"_Can I get out?" _

In answer, Firnen lifted his wing. Arya looked at the sky. The clouds were as black as ever, if not darker. Though the rain was no longer falling, it looked like it was going to any minute and an icy wind was now blowing. The air itself felt cold and uninviting, and for once, Arya wished she was back in Ellesmera, where the enchantments made the place feel a lot more secure. Out here though, in the cold and dark, she felt unsafe and even a little fearful. Oh, how she wished those black clouds would go away, and take the thunder and the cold with them!

"_Normally," _said Firnen, _"that kind of thinking would make me scoff. But I do agree Arya. These storms are a little unsettling." _

The wind began to pick up, blowing hard in Arya's face. The icy blasts drained the warmth from her body, making her feel cold and alone and...afraid.

"_Arya, are you alri.." _

Then Arya saw it. Movement in the forest, rustling of the trees, moving away from them. They were not alone: something had been watching them, for how long she didn't know.

"_Firnen, did you see that?" _

"_See what?" _

"_There was movement, movement in the bushes! Something's out there!" _

"_Have you considered the possibility that it was an animal?" _

She hadn't and now Firnen had said it she still didn't. The icy blast of wind, the feeling of cold...It felt like a warning. Something evil had been there. For once, Arya didn't second guess herself. She drew her sword.

"_Arya..." _said Firnen as gently as possible. _"Partner of my heart and soul, you have been under much stress lately. Perhaps.." _

He was cut off by the sound of something very large crashing through the trees.

At once, he stood up, immediately alert. Whatever it was, it was much larger than a deer, and it was moving closer.

Despite herself, Arya took a step back. She knew that whatever was coming wasn't something she wanted to meet.

Then she saw it: a great skeletal beast with leathery skin and great wings, eyes full of malice. A lethbraka. And on its back sat a Ra'zac, cloaked and hooded with a few inches of beak visible beneath its hood. In the darkness it was hard to make out its full form, which made it even worse.

The Ra'zac dismounted, drawing a leaf-shaped sword. Firnen growled. There was no parleying with this creature: it was by its nature their enemy.

The Ra'zac advanced, slowly and methodically, its sword held loosely at its side.

More crashing. Arya turned and saw that there was another Lethbraka advancing on them, and another Ra'zac on its back. The sound of multiple swords being slid from their scabbards. Arya turned and found three more Ra'zac behind them, advancing at the same slow, deliberate pace. Five Ra'zac. Two Lethbraka, perhaps more. Arya thought quickly. The minds of the Ra'zac were slippery and nigh impossible to grasp and their physiology made them immune to the normal words of death. She would have to fight them hand-to-hand.

"_Arya, we need to get into the air! Now!" _

Seemingly in answer the wind began to blow again, harder than ever. It buffeted them so hard that Arya almost fell flat on her back.

"_I can still fly! Come on!" _

But there was no time. As if sensing their intentions, the Ra'zac charged with frightening speed. The Lethbraka roared and went for Firnen.

Arya knew the to fight all of the monsters at the same time would be disastrous, so she ran to meet the one of the far left head on, trusting Firnen to handle the Lethbraka. She leaped through the air, taking the Ra'zac by suprise. Tamerlain slashed down diagonally from its shoulder to waist with lightning speed and the Ra'zac fell. Meanwhile, Firnen shot a gout of Emerald fire at an oncoming Lethbraka, scorching its flesh before it dived onto him, trying to sink its claws into his scales.

The second Ra'zac and its parent now attacked Arya while the other Lethbraka and three Ra'zac distracted Firnen. A leaf bladed sword stabbed at her heart and Arya dodged nimbly away, slashing with Tamerlain as hard as she could. The Ra'zac parried with unusual speed. Arya cursed: the creatures were stronger in the night and she was sure this kind of darkness and cold made for perfect conditions for them.

They exchanged a few more blows, and Arya soon came to realize that the creature was almost her match in speed and strength. She felt another spike of pain from Firnen. Risking a glance at him she saw that the Lethbraka was struggling to keep him pinned down while the three Ra'zac dodged around them, jabbing whenever they saw an opening. Arya was an experienced fighter but Firnen, who had been born in a time of peace, was inexperienced and it showed.

The split second she had taken to analyse Firnen's situation had cost her. The Lethbraka had now reached her, and was trying to cut her to pieces with its claws. The Ra'zac and Lethbraka seemed to be co-ordinating their attacks perfecty: neither ever got in the way of the other and together they left no room for Arya to go on the offensive: it was all she could to keep dodging and parrying their attacks.

Then it hit her: co-ordination was the key. Firnen was outmatched by his lack of experience: something she would have to make up for. So she extended her whole being to him and, understanding her intentions, he to her. And everything changed. For one, everything looked different. Greens and blues were more prominent while reds, pinks and yellows were duller and less prominent. For two, she kept feeling pain as if needles were being stuck into her, and she knew that these were the Ra'zac's swords.

The biggest difference though that she didn't exist anymore. They were completely and utterly joined to a point where there was no distinction between them.

With a mighty push they kicked off from the ground, surprising the Lethbraka and throwing him off. They blasted a Lethbraka with fire from the air while at the same time they were rolling away from the same Lethbraka on the ground. They leaped through the air and feinted to the left, causing the Ra'zac to teeter off balance when they stabbed at its heart. They rammed their massive head into its side, sending it sprawling in the dirt. A quick thrust of the sword later and they were another Ra'zac down.

They blasted the advancing Lethbraka with fire as hot as they could muster, driving it back. They felt a sharp pain as the second Lethbraka's claws pierced their scales and drove them down to the ground...

It all went wrong from there. The Lethbraka bit into their side, causing agonizing pain. They couldn't let their soul partner bear their pain this way. With an almighty shove they sundered themselves, and they were two separate beings once more.

"_Firnen, no! You have to bring me back!" _Arya screamed. When no answer came, she attempted to force her way back in, but she found herself facing mental wall of iron. She assaulted them but he gave her no opening. They were walls made of solid pain.

"_Firnen, they'll kill you! Please!"_

But she doubted he even heard her. He was blocking her out, completely and totally. Meanwhile, Firnen and the Lethbraka were rolling around, biting and clawing and now the second Lethbraka was closing in.

Meanwhile, the other three Ra'zac were advancing on her, leaf shaped swords ready to cut her to pieces.

A feeling of hopelessness was descending on her now. Her dragon was being torn to pieces by two Lethbraka. She was facing three Ra'zac at the height of their strength. The partner of her heart...she could hear him...Firnen...

She was drowning in a sea of sorrow. There was nowhere to run. This, she realized, was the true strength of the Ra'zac; to divide their enemies, to make them feel hopeless and alone. What she needed was to use magic...But no, she couldn't remember the words...What was wrong with her?

She was dimly aware of the battle going on around her. Firnen was breathing fire and trying desperately to drive off his attackers, but all he was really accomplishing was the start of a forest fire. He was bleeding badly, his wings were torn and his enemies were closing in. The Ra'zac had encircled Arya and were drawing closer. She had to use magic, but she couldn't remember...So cold, so dark...

The Ra'zac swung all at once. She dropped to her knees, ducking two and parrying the other. The Ra'zac whose blow she had parried kicked her hard in the ribs, and with a crack they broke. She fell on her back, pain her only thought as the Ra'zac prepared to strike the killing blow.

A great spike of pain erupted from Firnen, something he couldn't block from her no matter how hard he tried. The pain was agonizing; all consuming. And her only thought was to stop it. Whatever happened to her, she must not let him suffer like this. No, she couldn't let him die!

"NO!" She screamed out loud. And, without knowing what she was doing, the raised her hand towards Firnen and the Lethbraka. There was a blinding flash of green light and a rushing wind. A massive force seemed to throw them off him, and they flew several metres through the air before landing on their backs and skidding across the floor, lifeless. The Ra'zac screamed in rage, and they turned to Firnen. They must have thought he had killed their steeds, their parents. Abandoning Arya, they charged him, wicked swords ready to tear his flesh.

All Arya knew was that she couldn't let them reach him. She had to form some sort of barrier between them and her dragon. Somehow she must be able to replicate whatever kind of strange magic she had just used. Hoping that somehow it would work, she raised her hand towards a nearby pine and clenched her fists in a crushing motion. There was an almighty _crack _and Arya saw the tree's roots snap. Arya jerked her hand, as if to drag the tree over, and, obediently, the pine fell, right in the Ra'zac's path.

The Ra'zac turned to face her, and for a few seconds said nothing. Then the one in the centre stepped forwards, and pulled back its hood. A look of pure hatred was on its grotesque features.

"Sssso." It said. "You firssst, then?"

And he threw his sword at her heart. Desparately, Arya raised her hand, as if to shield herself from the weapon. The sword veered off course, sticking into the ground besides Arya. The Ra'zac hissed.

But, despite her broken ribs, Arya stood. She didn't know how she was doing this, but that didn't matter so long as it was distracting them from Firnen. She just had to keep it up, somehow.

However, her body didn't agree. She felt weak, so weak, and she knew that whatever kind of magic she had been performing had taken its toll. But she couldn't give up. She had to protect Firnen.

"Yes; me first. If you want to kill him, vile creature, you'll have to kill me first."

For a second, the Ra'zac seemed to hesitate. Then he turned back to his comrades. "Kill her!"

Arya raised her palm, determined to keep the Ra'zac at bay. A powerful wind seemed to pick up, pushing against the Ra'zac. Snarling, they pushed against it with all their might, and Arya felt the effect. They were locked in a battle of wills, their strength against hers. And hers was rapidly failing. Dropping her sword, she lifted her right palm as well. The strength of the force pushing against the Ra'zac increased, but she was pushing so hard that she barely had enough strength to stay on her feet.

In a last ditch effort, she pushed her hands forward with all her strength. There was another blinding flash of green light, and the air in front of her exploded. The Ra'zac were hit with a wall of force, and flew backwards, hitting the tree. They hit the pine with such force that it shattered into a thousand pieces, and Arya thought she heard a distinctive _crack _that meant the Ra'zac's rigid exoskeletons had met the same fate.

The loss of energy this caused was so great that Arya almost collapsed on the spot. But with the tree gone, Firnen was in plain sight, along with the pool of blood he was lying in.

Her dragon's wounds were horrific. Deep gouges had been cut in his scales, places where he had been bitten and slashed by the Lethbraka. His head was resting on the ground, and his eyes were closed.

"No!" she screamed, running over to him as fast as she could with tears streaming down her face. The Ra'zac and the Lethbraka were dead, they had won, how could he possibly be...

But no, he was breathing. Only just, but Arya could see his belly rising and falling. There was still hope. But as she got closer, Arya realized just how bad his wounds were. There was no way she could heal that.

She leaned on his side, tears falling freely. How could it end like this? No, it couldn't, she wouldn't let it...

She placed her palm on his side, trying to reach out to him with her mind, willing him to not be dead. At first, she didn't see the green tendrils, small and thin at first, snake out from under her fingers and wrap around his body. Wherever they touched, the tendrils seemed to repair the damage of the Lethbraka: open wounds closed up, horrible gashes stopped bleeding. As she watched, they grew stronger and thicker, wrapping around him and binding him tightly to his rider. She was his anchor to life.

But the force of the magic was too much. Try as she might, she couldn't keep it up. Her eyes began to flicker and then shut. Her knees grew weaker. The last thing she thought as she passed out was

"How did I do that?"


	5. Taking Counsel

**Hey guys, sorry this took so long and to be honest it's a bit of a filler too. Nevertheless, I hope it doesn't disappoint! **

**Circles, blah blah blah, Half Breed and Switching Lanes and all that and finally lion king spoof song. **

**Oh, and well done Eragon1500 for coming so close to working out my Directly involved question that I had to hand it to him. Well done, 1500! First the worst, second the best, third the one in the golden dress! Anyone wanna be in a golden dress? If so, read Life, Alagesia and Everything and answer the questions at the end! Oh, and sorry about the "first the worst" thing N-six. I didn't make the rhyme. **

Arya's dreams were uneasy: full of dark creatures stalking her, eager to get their beaks on her flesh. She would try to run but in the darkness she would stumble, trip, run into a tree or a branch. The harder she tried to escape the beasts the darker it became and the more difficult it was to get through the trees. A Ra'zac jumped out in front of her and she stopped, frozen in terror. The creature slowly lowered its hood, revealing its hideous face. But no, that wasn't the face of a Ra'zac, it was-

Arya's eyes snapped open. She was drenched in sweat.

"_Arya?"_

"_Firnen! What..are you okay? I thought-"_

"_Yes, Arya, I am alright. I don't know what you did, but I escaped with only a few minor injuries. But what about you?"_

"_I just.." _Arya stopped herself. What she had seen in her dream disturbed her too much to talk about. _"I'm fine. Where...where are we?"_

"_Well," _said Firnen, _"You are under my wing, and we are as far away from the site of the attack as I could carry you before you started to thrash around. We're deeper in the forest, so I hope we'll be a little safer."_

Arya nodded. _"How long have I been out?"_

"_Two days." _He replied gravely. Well, two days since I woke up anyway.

_Two _days_? _How was that possible?

"_Well," _said Firnen with the air of someone explaining something very simple to a very simple person, _"you were tired, you see."_

"_Firnen! How could you have let this happen? We need to find Eragon and we don't have time to waste! Why didn't you wake me?"_

"_I tried." _He replied simply. _"I wouldn't have but your dream seemed particularly bad. I tried to get into your mind and wake you, but it didn't work."_

Arya nodded shakily. It worried her that she had been could not be rescued from these nightmares, especially because, being an elf, usually she was completely aware that she was dreaming and was able to terminate it as she pleased. And two nights in a row now, in fact, three nights in a row, though the first experience had been pleasant, if mysterious, that had not been the case.

On the other hand the two dreams had been nothing alike. The first had been completely clear and real while her nightmares had been more surreal and harder to remember and understand, just like a normal dream.

But Arya didn't want either of them to happen again. The second for obvious reasons: she was terrified of being forced to experience that again. The fact that, for all she had known at the time, it was all real made it even worse. She wondered how the humans, dwarves and urgals coped with it every night.

She didn't want anything like the first one to happen again either simply because it drove her mad trying to work out its meaning. Everything had been crystal clear yet so strange.

But what if she couldn't escape? Arya thought back to the strange magic she had used two days (and one nightmare) ago. It was strange; she had never read or heard about, let alone used it, before. She had cast spells, without saying or thinking any words, without even knowing how she did it. Was some kind of strange change coming upon her? One that she knew nothing about and couldn't reverse? That thought made her genuinely afraid.

"_Arya,"_ said Firnen gently, _"perhaps it is best you focus on Eragon for now."_

Arya knew he was just trying to get her to think about something else, but that seemed like a good idea at the moment and besides, she had to save Eragon. Whatever pain she might be going through now would be miniscule compared to the pain of losing him. No, she wouldn't think of that. She should focus on saving him, not losing him.

"_I'm glad you agree." _Said Firnen. _"If I had to remind you of that one more time..."_

Arya did her best to smile, but it was a feeble attempt. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop worrying about Eragon, no more than she could forget what she had seen at the end of her nightmare...

"_Arya, I know you don't want to talk about whatever you saw, but I can't help you if you don't."_

"_Firnen, I really can't." _And she meant it. For some reason the face of that hooded figure had made her more uneasy that she would have expected. She had the feeling, just like last time, that it meant something; that both the vision and the nightmare were linked.

"_Very well then." _Said Firnen, resigned. _"In that case, I suppose we need to make up for lost time. Let's get going."_

"_Okay." _She said. _"But first I want to talk to Blodgharm about what's happened."_

Firnen gave her a mental nod.

"_The weather hasn't changed." _Said Firnen, clearly trying to take her mind off things as she set about trying to find the Scrying mirror. _"I'm surprised it didn't wake you. It was raining heavily for most of the time you were out, and the thunder could have waked a human who'd drank a barrel of ale."_

This news hardly lifted Arya's spirits, partly because she wished the weather would get a little better but mostly because even it had not been able to stir her from her nightmare. Would she ever be free again?

"_Have you been alright? It must have been so cold."_

"_I am a dragon." _He said, sounding a little hurt. _"A little cold does not bother me! Besides, not much of it came through the trees. I wouldn't have been alright though had you hadn't healed me. I don't know how you managed to close so many wounds before I could die, but you did."_

Arya nodded mentally. She didn't know either.

"_And what about what you did to those Lethbraka? Some kind of great force threw them off me and killed them. I felt nothing though and I know I didn't do it. Whatever spell you used must have taken enough energy to keep a dragon in the air for days! And when I woke up, I found the remains of a pine tree, completely shattered to bits. Did the Ra'zac do that somehow?"_

"_No." _Said Arya. _"That was also me. But whatever I did, Firnen, I wasn't using normal magic. If it was, the enchantments would have been incredibly complicated. But somehow I killed the Lethbraka, felled a tree to keep the Ra'zac off you and then blasted them to pieces, and yet I lived."_

Arya could sense Firnen's wonder. _"That sounds like dragon magic. Perhaps it is the result of the bond between us. Could some of my power have rubbed off on you?"_

"_I...I don't know. I suppose that's the only possible answer, but...It seems quite a few strange things have been happening to me of late. Besides, nothing like that has ever happened in the history of the riders." _

She didn't have to brood on that for long as she had by then found the scrying mirror. Hoping Blodgharm had bought the one from Eragon's office with him, she muttered "New Vrorengard." This time, instead of showing the back of a book-filled study, it showed nothing but white mist. Arya waited in silence. Several minutes passed before she finally stirred.

"_Nothing." _She said to Firnen. _"Nothing at all. Either the other mirror's destroyed, or..."_

"_Or some sort of enchantment is preventing you from connecting to it."_ Finished Firnen._ "Neither would be good."_

Arya shook her head. What if something had happened to Blodgharm and the riders and eldanauri under his command? It would be a terrible blow if they had been lost, and it would also probably mean that they had a powerful enemy. Perhaps even the same one who had taken Eragon?

"_Perhaps we should try to contact Ellesmera instead." _Said Firnen. "_They should know of this menace."_

Arya didn't have to think about that. _"No. They would recall me immediately and even if I refused they would probably send people to take me back by force." _Arya knew it sounded far-fetched but she also knew that they would do it.

"_Perhaps you are right." _Said Firnen. _"We canned afford to be bogged down by them. We have to rescue Eragon and they'd just make it difficult for you if they knew about the Ra'zac. But on the other hand, this threatens all of Alagesia. We should go to Sílthrim and let your kin there spread the word."_

"_We can't stay long. We need to get to Trodjheim." _Said Arya with absolute certainty. _"Time is running out."_

She mounted Firnen and they took off into the wind.

Not long after their flight had begun it had started to rain again. However, despite having been asleep for two days, she hadn't properly recovered from her exhaustion and didn't have the energy to ward it off. Soon enough she was soaking and freezing to the bone.

Coming above the edge of the forest they turned east, towards Ceris and lake Eldor. From there they would follow the river Edda south to Hedarth, then the Az Ragani to Farthen Dûr.

The weather was one again starting to worsen; the thunder booming and the rain pouring down. Arya knew that if she allowed it to continue to affect her much longer it would not be good for her health, so she was forced to cast a spell to ward off the rain. After that the steady drop of energy served to make her feel even more miserable.

As she sat on Firnen's back she had little to do but contemplate their situation.

She had no idea whatsoever how she had destroyed the Ra'zac, but the meaning of their appearance was clear. Evil was stirring, of that she had no doubt. And she was certain that the Ra'zac she had killed weren't the only ones out there.

Recent events seemed to be leading up with something. The dark and unfriendly weather had coincided with the appearance of two old enemies. Arya wondered if the Ra'zac and Az Sweldn Rak Anhun had been in league. Perhaps the Ra'zac had perceived her as a threat and had attacked her to ensure that they could keep Eragon in their grasp. If that was so, it did not bode well. Times were dark if dwarves had allied with such foul beasts. However, it would certainly make sense. They had a common enemy: Eragon.

"_I think we can at least be sure that Orik wasn't involved in this." _Interjected Firnen. _"Whether they are part of a larger group or not I am certain that they were not acting on the king's orders."_

Arya tended to mistrust the dwarves but Orik had seemed nice enough and certainly a better friend to Eragon than she had ever been. She expected, or at least sincerely hoped, that he would prove to be an ally.

"_But who else is? How big is this group? What if there is an entire army of Ra'zac which we must face?"_

"_That," _said Firnen, _"I highly doubt. Don't you think if there was such a large amount of Ra'zac left in Alagesia they would have shown themselves by now? Allied with Galbatorix during the war?"_

"_Perhaps they have been waiting for the opportune moment."_

"_Wouldn't the opportune moment have been when we had no chance of beating Galbatorix? They could have helped him destroy Eragon without much reason to fear. Besides, since they didn't, there is no reason to think that these Ra'zac harbour any ill feelings for Eragon, at least no more than they hate the rest of us."_

"_Be that as it may, it seems to me that the Ra'zac are collaborating with the dwarves. They attacked us as we were moving to rescue Eragon. The evidence points-"_

"_To nothing." _Finished Firnen. _"We don't know enough to start forming these kind of theories. Yes, I do feel that some darkness is growing, and Ra'zac will ever linger around darkness and will always be strongest when we are weak. There is no evidence to make me believe there is any other reason for their appearance."_

Arya wasn't convinced, but she dropped the topic.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The rain waxed a waned, but over the course of the day it became steadily heavier. By late afternoon Arya was feeling exhausted.

"_We should be approaching Sílthrim soon." _Said Firnen. _"You don't have to go on for much longer."_

Arya nodded mentally. How she was looking forward to some warm food and a soft bed! After several days of being on dragon back in the terrible weather she was extremely eager for a rest. She knew she'd have to be careful to avoid staying longer than she needed to.

"_Don't worry." _Said Firnen. _"I am sure you are sufficiently obsessed with Eragon to get him back as quickly as possible." _(At this, Arya's cheeks turned appropriately crimson.)_ "Still though, you could do with some rest."_

"_Firnen! I am not obsessed!"_

"_There isn't a day when you don't think about him. Don't deny it, I'm in your mind! Moreover, when he left you didn't eat or sleep for three days solid."_

"_Just because I'm interested in-"_

"_Madly in love with." _Firnen corrected.

"_I am not-"_

"_Oh, please."_

They continued in this fashion until Arya realized that Sílthrim was in sight.

Firnen angled his wings so that they began to gently descend. The second they passed under the cover of the trees Arya released the spell with a feeling of great relief. At least now she would have enough energy to talk to the people.

Sílthrim was smaller than Ellesmera and less grand. Arya had visited a few times before, but there wasn't much she had picked up. Sílthrim was, in most respects, a second Ellesmera, as were most of the large elven settlements in Du Weldenvarden.

An elf rushed up to her as she dismounted from Firnen. "Your majesty! Atra esterni ono thelduin,"

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr,"

"Un du evarínya ono varda."

"We are greatly honoured to have you here, your highness." He said in what Arya knew must be his best formal tone.

"The honour is mine." She replied in kind. "I apologize for the unannounced visit but I am travelling to Tronjheim and we are weary. We were hoping you would be so kind as to allow us to stay for the night."

The elf nodded. "It will be our honour, your majesty. There is a place where you may rest for as long as you wish. Please follow me."

She did, and around ten minutes later Arya was standing just outside the largest and grandest tree house that they had seen so far. Judging by the spacious veranda attached to the side Arya assumed that it was meant for visiting riders.

"My lady, I shall take my leave of you now. We shall have food bought for you later this evening. If there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to ask."

Upon entering the house she found it exceedingly comfortable but not as lavish as her quarters in Tialdari hall. Perfect for her.

Arya set Firnen's saddle bags and her own knapsack down. Now she found herself in a house with a proper bed she realized she was totally exhausted. Quickly she ascended the spiral staircase which led to the spacious bedroom and threw herself onto the bed, savouring its softness. She quickly descended into her waking dreams.

Thankfully, the nightmares did not visit her and she rested peacefully for hours. However, elves wake easily from their slumber as it is not truly sleep, so the ringing noise coming from downstairs easily set her off.

She realized that the source of the noise was the scrying mirror, which was enchanted to draw the attention of its owner when another was connected to it. Still feeling slightly groggy, she quickly descended the stairs to where the mirror was located in her bags.

Pulling it out, she was surprised to find it was Nasuada's face looking back at her.

"Queen Nasuada, this is a pleasant surprise indeed." She said in the voice she usually held in reserve for members of her council and other elven dignitaries. "I'm glad to hear from you, but it's been some time. Is there a problem?"

"Oh," said Nasuada, "I'm sure you are well aware of it, probably more aware than we are. There is a darkness growing in Alagesia."

Arya nodded, now serious. "Aye." She said simply. "We have felt it."

"I have decided to convene a council of Alagesia to discuss the matter. I'm sorry for getting to you so late but when I tried to contact you in Ellesmera they said that you were gone and they hadn't heard from you."

Arya nodded. "I apologize, I haven't had the time to speak to them since I set off." (Firnen scoffed.) "I...are you aware that Eragon is missing?"

If Nasuada's face had ever looked pale it was then. "Wha-missing? No, he can't...Are you sure?"

"Well, unless you would argue that dragged away in the night by rouge dwarves doesn't count as missing." Arya replied slightly less formally. It was not an easy subject for her.

Nasuada looked grave. "These are terrible tidings, but I fear that it has something to do with this growing darkness. We now have all the more reason to hold council."

Arya nodded. "It may be best that we keep this secret until the council has convened. This news would only spread panic if it were to become common knowledge. I shall send Lord Dathedr to attend at Illeria."

Nasuada frowned. "The other leaders will be there in person. It would be best if you were to attend as well."

Arya shook her head. "My duty is to the riders here. I must find Eragon."

"Should not the riders undertake that duty?"

"Do not forget Queen Nasuada that _I _am a dragon rider also, and until we return Eragon I am the leader of the riders. Also, we have lost contact with Blodhgarm so now Firnen and I may be his only hope."

"You have lost contact with New Vrorengard?"

"I am afraid so."

"I-well...I take it you have already sent ships to investigate?"

Arya inwardly cursed for not having thought of that earlier.

"_Do not dwell on it overmuch, Arya, your mind has been focused on other matters." _Said Firnen gently.

"As I said, I have been unable to contact the council before now. But I agree that we should investigate the situation. I shall relay the order to the council."

Nasuada nodded. "I would send troops as well but Ellesmera is far closer. Now, onto the topic of the meeting. I must insist that you attend. After all, it would reflect poorly on the elven people if their queen did not attend while all the other leaders did."

Arya's face darkened. She had never been overly fond of Nasuada. She was, in many respects, much like her council, and was not afraid to manipulate people to achieve her goals. However, she would never have expected her to do so to the detriment of Eragon's safety.

"_Arya," _said Firnen, _"it may be wise to attend."_

Arya immediately sent thoughts of rejection of the idea to Firnen, but Firnen interrupted, saying _"all of the leaders of Alagesia will be present. At least one of them is bound to know something, and since we currently have no leads on Eragon we need whatever knowledge they may have. Besides, Orik will certainly be present, and it's him we were going to talk to anyway. _

_Reluctantly, Arya agreed. "Very well." She said. _

"I agree, queen Nasuada." Said Arya. "It would be improper for me not to attend."

Nasuada smiled slightly. She clearly thought that she had successfully manipulated Arya. Nasuada had obviously made the assumption that Arya would place her duty to her people and adherence to protocol before all else.

"_That assessment would not be inaccurate for the Arya Nasuada knew in the war." _Said Firnen. _"But you have changed much in so little time."_

"I shall take my leave of you now, Queen Arya." Said Nasuada. "May the stars watch over you, and may peace live ever in your heart."

She seemed to think she was being clever; that she was pulling the strings and that she was in control. Perhaps a year ago she would have been. But now, it just made Arya's dislike of her increase.

Firnen smiled mentally. _"You know, I think the change has been for the better."_


	6. Desert Storm

**Hey! Hey dudes! It's another chapter of **_**The Hidden God! **_**Man, I'm so excited! I loooove that story! But I HATE that infernal author! He hasn't updated in, like, ever! BURN HIM! **

**Well...That was disturbing...Sorry I took so long guys, but I hope things are gonna get back on track from here on in. I'm getting back into this story-and now we're finally out of those oh-so-exciting beginning filler chapters! I'm not sure what to call this one. It's not exactly action packed, but it's certainly more exciting (I hope) than the average filler. It also gives us another one of those brilliant dreams, which hints at a major plot point...I was originally going to outright give you the answer, but where would be the fun in that? I'm leaving you in the dark.**

**Subject of Tamerlain and all that, blah blah, circles, blah, Half Breed and Switching Lanes, Lion King. Blah.**

It wasn't until after the conversation that Arya realized she was hungry.

"_They bought some food up for you while you were asleep." _Said Firnen. _"It's on the table."_

Arya found the food and immediately tucked it. The meal, she knew, was the best Sílthrim had to offer and she greatly enjoyed it. There was a delicious stew, along with a plate piled with every kind of fruit and berry imaginable and topped with cream for the dessert. She returned to bed with her belly pleasantly full. Changing into her night clothes, she quickly fell to sleep.

Arya awoke at first light the next morning. At least, she thought it was first light. The black, unfriendly clouds remained and continued to stunt the morning's progress.

Quickly dressing, she left the house for the central building of Síltrhim where the ruling council of the city held their meetings. Whatever her reservations were about attending an elven meeting, she had an obligation to tell them what she knew about recent events. At least they would not dare try and overrule her, and by the time Dathedr and the others knew anything about it she planned to be long gone.

"_I'll let you deal with the two-legs." _Said Firnen. _"I must hunt; it's been too long since I've had a full belly."_

"_Try to be back as soon as you can." _Replied Arya. _"I don't want to stay longer than I have to."_

"_Worry not, partner of my mind and soul." _Said Firnen. _"I am as eager to be clear of this place as you." _

In the forest, it still felt like night, with only a pale glow penetrating the dense cloud cover. However, flameless lanterns were alight everywhere and so the darkness felt less threatening and ominous to Arya. Nevertheless, she felt a strong desire to be inside, where it was at least a little warmer.

While she walked she planned out their route. They could either fly southwest directly to Illeria, which would take them right through the centre of the Hadarac desert. Alternatively, they could fly first to Osilon and then south to Illeria, which would mean they would avoid the desert but greatly increase their travel time.

"_That desert is perilous." _Said Arya. _"Maybe the wiser course would be to avoid it. I can't ask you to cross that place." _

"_No!" _said Firnen. _"We must move quickly. Whatever is going on isn't going to wait for us to catch up! The council of Alagesia will likely be finished by the time we get there if we take the roundabout route and more importantly we'd be losing yet more time in our search for Eragon." _

Arya was silent for a while, then said _"I must agree with you. Crossing the entire width of the desert will not be easy for either me or you, but it is necessary that we do so. I do feel that time is running short now. But will you be able to do it?"_

"_Of course!" _said Firnen. _"I should be able to do it in a few days if I fly hard. Judging by how the weather's been so far we shouldn't have to worry too much about it being overly hot either in the desert." _Said Firnen.

"_I wouldn't count on it raining in the desert, even considering how it's been all across Du Weldenvarden." _

"_But I am sure it will be cooler than it would be otherwise, so we can for once count it as a blessing."_

Arya shook her head. Whatever this weather was, it was not blessing. Of that she was certain. 

She passed several elves along the way who invariably stopped, bowed, and began the traditional elven greeting. By the time she reached the council's hall, sunlight was beginning to pierce through both the clouds and the canopy.

"_No such luck over here." _Said Firnen, sending her mental images of wind and rain in the part of the forest he was in. _"This storm keeps blowing scents everywhere. It's almost impossible to find where any of them are coming from!" _

"_You know," _said Arya, _"I think you might be the cause of all the bad weather we've had so far on this trip. You bring it with you." _

"_Or maybe you bring it on me." _Replied Firnen. _"Urûr got annoyed at you for continually insisting he doesn't exist so he's punishing me." _Arya had to smile. _"And why not me then?" _

"_He wouldn't run the risk of incurring your wrath of course! If only you could see yourself when you're angry..." _And despite everything, Arya burst into laughter. 

Arya entered the council hall. As one, the city's council stood in respect. Arya noted how remarkably similar they were to their superiors in Ellesmera: the expression on their faces, their bearing and demeanour all echoed the likes of Dathedr.

"My lady! On behalf of the council and the city of Sílthrim, I hereby humbly welcome you to our halls. It is a great honour to have you here." He dipped his head in an overly-pronounced bow.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin." He began, after a slight pause. He was clearly unused to beginning the exchange.

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr." She replied smoothly.

"Un du evarínya ono varda." He finished.

She then proceeded to go through the same exchange with all eight members of the council, the words _this is a waste of time _prominent in her mind.

"My lady, we have already been informed of the reason for your visit. Lord Eragon missing...these are dark times indeed."

Arya nodded. "Thank you for so kindly receiving me." The lord she was speaking to inclined his head in a smug sort of way. "I apologize, but I cannot stay long. I must be present at a meeting in Illeria regarding the Chancellor's disappearance among other things. For this reason, I fear I will be unable to inform the council in Ellesmera of certain things. Would you be so kind as to pass on a few messages for me? They are urgent and must be addressed."

The elven lord smiled. "As you command my lady. What must we convey to the council?"

"Tell them that I am going to Illeria, and also that I have reason to believe there are Ra'zac in Du Weldenvarden. Also, we have lost contact with Lord Blodgharm on New Vrorengard."

At this, several of the elven lords and ladies began to murmur darkly. Those who remained respectfully facing their queen, including the one she had been addressing who was obviously their leader (or believed himself to be their leader; it was often difficult to tell with their kind,) wore troubled expressions.

"I-I shall make sure this message is relayed, my lady. This...this is dire news." He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but quickly closed it as if thinking better of it. Arya was sure he was going to ask just how she knew there were Ra'zac in Du Weldenvarden. Even though he had heard his queen speak the words, Arya knew that it would be difficult for one of her kind, especially one of the nobles to accept that dark creatures had infiltrated their realm.

"_I call it arrogance." _Said Firnen plainly. _"But I suppose a dragon isn't one to talk about arrogance, is he?" _

"_I don't know..." _said Arya, _"I think some of the elves I've met could give your kind a few lessons on arrogance. Not that they would ever admit it." _She added with a smile.

"Good." Said Arya. "Well then, Firnen and I must be off."

She turned and was almost at the door when the elven lord finally spoke. "My lady, with all due respect, if there are truly Ra'zac in Du Weldenvarden, perhaps it would not be wise for you to leave the safety of Sílthrim at this time..."

Arya turned on her heel to face him. _Right on queue. _

"The stability of Alagesia is at stake, and Lord Eragon is a personal friend. Do not ask me to abandon him or abandon the riders at this time." She said cooly, fighting to keep her emotions under control. She didn't have time to deal with this.

"My lady, perhaps it would be best if somebody else-"

Arya smiled. "I would agree, but all the other leaders of Alagesia will soon be attending a council. You must understand that it would reflect poorly on our race if any lesser representative were to attend in my stead."

The elven lord nodded. "You are of course correct, my lady. I apologize for questioning your wisdom in this matter."

Arya's face was an emotionless mask, but inside she was positively grinning with mirth.

"_Brilliant!" _said Firnen. _"Nasuada would be so proud!" _

Struggling not to show any signs of amusement, Arya said "I am sure you must all agree that we cannot sit idly by in this situation." The elves in the room all nodded in agreement. "Please also tell Dathedr to send ships to New Vrorengard to investigate why we have lost contact."

"As you wish, my lady." Said the elven lord.

"Now," said Arya, "I must depart. May the stars watch over you all. Oh, and would you kindly replenish our supplies? Firnen and I have a long journey ahead of us." And without another word she strode briskly out of the room.

"_Excellently handled!" _said Firnen. _"Things seem to be looking up for me as well; I've finally caught a deer!" _he said, sending her a mental image of his kill along with a sense of pride that made Arya slightly queasy.

"_Firnen, you know I don't like..." _

"_Well, alright then."_ He replied. _"Don't worry, I'll make sure I eat quickly. I'll see you back at the house." _

When Arya returned to the house she found that extra rations had already been bought up for her. She began to pack them in her bags as she awaited Firnen's return.

By the time she had finished she could see him flying at a leisurely pace towards her. She could feel his sense of contentment at having a full belly across their link. Picking up their bags, she went outside to meet him.

Firnen landed and Arya began to prepare for flight. Looking up, she could see that the clouds remained as persistent as ever. Soon, she knew, the storm that Firnen had encountered would be over the city.

"_Ready?" _she asked, climbing nimbly onto his back.

In response, Firnen crouched in preparation to jump. Arya grabbed onto the spike in front of her and a second later Firnen launched into the sky, cleared the treetops, and wheeled south.

It was another day before they were upon the Hadarac desert.

"_We still have a few hours of daylight left. Perhaps it would be a good idea to make a start on the desert."_ Said Arya.

"_No."_ Replied Firnen. _"I want to get the Hadarac out of the way in one flight but admittedly I'll have to rest first if we're going to do that. Besides, it might be a good idea to find some water so we have some spare. It's going to be a long flight."_

Firnen landed and Arya went to a nearby stream to fetch water while Firnen cleared an area to make it more comfortable to stay the night in. When she had filled up all their spare containers to capacity, she returned to Firnen's impromptu camp and slept soundly until she reluctantly brought herself back into wakefulness at dawn, to face the Hadarac.

Few words passed between the two as they prepared to break camp and make the crossing; both felt grim and both knew the other felt the same.

On the upside, the weather was a little better over the desert. On the downside, less chance of rain would not work to their advantage in place with so little water and the unnatural cold's magnitude would only increase in the desert at night.

"_Get yourself comfortable."_ Said Firnen. _"You'll be up here quite a while; we can't afford to stop along the way."_

Arya agreed: stopping would simply be a waste of time. For one, neither were willing to lose any more time in their search for Eragon and for two they didn't have enough water to make the journey any longer than it needed to be. Time, as usual, was not on their side.

"_Eragon told me he and Murtagh crossed the Hadarac once." _Said Arya. _"And they didn't have our supplies and they were on horses. Surely it can't be that bad for us."_

"_Well done," _said Firnen. _"You have successfully listed the advantages they had over us. However, you did miss a few points. One, they didn't have to go half the distance we do and two, the weather wasn't antagonizing them."_

"_Not listening." _Said Arya with a slight smile. _"Anything Eragon can do, I can do better." _

"_Like killing Galbatorix, for instance? Of course, you could have done that in your sleep."_

They continued to make light conversation as Firnen took off and soared above the barren landscape, towards the great sandy plains.

The day started off well enough: though the wind was a little overly violent and the temperature a little too cold for a place that should be so hot, it didn't bother either of them too much. In fact, it was almost midday when the rain started to pour down.

It wasn't as heavy as it had been over Du Weldenvarden, but it was even more agitating. Even in a desert, it wouldn't leave them alone. The black clouds were thinner with more breaks but higher up, meaning that if they were to try and go above them it would be even colder. Besides, as Firnen pointed out, it was doubtful they'd be able to get that far up; the clouds seemed especially violent.

Arya cast the usual spell, wondering what Alagesia was coming to if the Hadarac desert was experiencing storms. The sky boomed. Make that thunder storms.

At least they had no shortage of water; Arya's collecting had been for nothing. Still though, she didn't welcome it. The rain meant cold, and it would only get worse as night fell.

As the sun began to set, Arya really began to feel the cold. It crept up on her slowly, so that she didn't notice the drop of temperature at first. Then, as the sun started to sink below the clouds, she began to feel the chill. She was shivering by the time darkness fell, despite her enchantments to ward off the persistent rain.

"_Arya," _said Firnen, _"let me lend you some energy. Then you can cast a spell to keep yourself warm." _

"_No." _She replied without hesitation. _"We can't afford that. I won't slow down the search for Eragon for a little warmth." _

"_We've been through this a thousand times." _He said. _"You'll be worth nothing to Eragon dead." _

"_I won't die." _Said Arya.

Firnen sighed. _"Very well. Try to get some rest. We still have a long way to go." _

The night passed incredibly slowly. The rain was intermittent, sometimes slackening off and almost stopping, sometimes growing stronger and putting great pressure on Arya's wards. The minutes felt like hours as the night dragged on; the moon, which was barely visible through the thick clouds, seemed to move at half its normal pace.

It was hard to see in the total darkness which prevailed around them, but Arya thought that the clouds were slowly sinking towards the ground as the night drew on. She had the distinct impression that they were reaching out to her; trying to fall upon her and crush her in blackness and cold.

She wasn't sure how long it had been when she started to realize that she was in real danger, because the exhaustion was making her thoughts sluggish. Eventually though, it started to dawn on her that she was slipping into unconsciousness.

She felt desparate for sleep; the wards were draining the life out of her so she felt extremely lethargic. But she knew she couldn't sleep; if she did she might never wake up. She had to hold on.

"_Arya!" _she heard Firnen's voice as if from far away. _"Arya, you have to let me help you!" _

"_No..." _she replied, with great effort. _"Have to...save your strength..."_

Through her link with him she was dimly aware that he was having problems of his own. The wind was buffeting him around and the cold was starting to penetrate his scales. He couldn't afford to lose any more energy. She had to hold on by herself. She kept his mind away; close enough for them to talk but not so close that he could feed her energy.

But she was losing her grip...on everything. Her eyes were closing. She felt awful; every part of her body seemed to be made of lead. She felt Firnen's muffled cries and his attempts to break the barriers she had put up; but he had to concentrate too much on flying to compete with her will. But it wouldn't be like that for long... 

It was at this point Arya realized she was dying. Her very existence was being hammered out of her by the rain; the steady and relentless pounding. But she couldn't die. She had to save Eragon, and Firnen would be lost without her. No, she had to stop it...

Finally, she cut off the spell. Her feeling of relief was profound; she no longer felt like life was slipping through her fingers. That comforting feeling was soon dampened, quite literally, by the rain, which was slowly but surely soaking through her clothes, intensifying the cold. She didn't have to think about it for long though; the tiredness was the strongest sensation. Though she was no longer being drained, she couldn't keep herself awake the way she had been doing for any longer. At least now she wasn't going to die. It was all she could do to lean forwards and slump on to Firnen's neck spike before she had to let go of consciousness.

It was the sunrise that woke her. Normally, she would have considered it cold, but as the first rays of daylight broke above the horizon, she began to feel the life returning to her. It was a slow process, during which she had enough time to realize that, firstly, the rain had stopped. Perhaps it had decided that she couldn't get any wetter. Regardless, the sun was rising and there was no rain. The best news she'd had in an age.

"_How are you, Arya?"_

Arya yawned. _"Never better." _

"_We still have a way to go." _Said Firnen. _"The storm seems to have subsided though." _

Arya nodded and lifted her head. Looking down, she could see the desert still stretched out as far as her elven eye could see in all directions, while Firnen's wings still beat steadily, if much more slowly.

"_Have something to eat." _Said Firnen. _"You need it." _

Arya didn't question him. Rummaging through the packs she pulled out several travelling biscuits and some water. After eating and drinking her fill, she exchanged them for her flask of Faelneriv, wondering why she hadn't thought of it earlier.

Taking a good gulp, she soon felt much better. Well, she could now move all of her limbs, anyway.

"_You might as well rest." _Said Firnen. _"I can keep it up for a while yet. I hope we get some rest afterwards though. My wings feel like they're on fire!"_

Concerned as she was, Arya agreed that she still needed the sleep. Without another word, she slipped back into her waking dreams.

At first they drifted from topic to topic in their usual manor. Suddenly though, they became dark and murky, raptly clear, like they had been in her first two visions. She was in another palace, but this one was totally different from the other she'd seen. Everything looked dark and evil.

Sitting on a black throne was a figure, hooded and cloaked in shadow. She knew immediately that this wasn't a place she wanted to be seen in. She couldn't let the black figure know she was there. She had to be invisible.

Another black robed figure walked up to the throne and bowed. This one was hunchbacked and Arya thought she saw a beak protruding from its hood. A Ra'zac. The one on the throne nodded in acknowledgement and said "You bring news of the girl, I presume?" Thankfully, neither of their eyes turned to her.

The man's voice sounded rich and powerful, but with a note of underlying malice. She instinctively knew that he was evil; more evil even than Galbatorix.

"We...We were unsuccessful, your highnesssss. She got away."

The man on the throne nodded. "Excellent. Then I shall meet her at Tronjheim. Do you have anything else to report?"

For a second, the Ra'zac didn't answer. Arya decided it was probably out of shock: he hadn't expected his leader to take his failure as a good thing.

"Sssshe...She is dangerousss, ssssire. Sssshe used...Strange magic."

Arya thought that she could almost see a smile under the man's hood. "That is good. That is very good indeed. Leave now."

The Ra'zac bowed and swiftly left. As he did, Arya saw his head turn in her direction for a moment, then away again. He clearly couldn't see her.

A soon as the Ra'zac left the room, the man on the throne stood and turned to face her. _He _could see her, even though the Ra'zac could not. The man pulled back his hood.

When she saw the face, Arya gasped. It was the same man she had seen before in her other nightmare; the same one who had pursued her through the forests of Du Weldenvarden. Just like before, he was powerful and terrible, twisted and evil, but still unmistakably _him. _

And written all over his features was a look of confusion, fury, and possibly even fear.

Her eyes flew open.

**Hmmm...Yeah, gonna leave you guys guessing on who this one is. You'll have to wait and wonder till the story tells you! **


	7. The Phantom Menace

**Hi guys! Sorry I took so long and it would've taken longer but I've got the flu today and I had little else to do but finish this. Hopefully it will have been worth the wait! **

**Remember to read Switching Lanes and Half Breed-that is if they do indeed update. Well, I guess I'm not one to talk, am I? **

**So, here goes my second longest chapter yet...**

Though the sun was now well on its way to reaching its zenith, it was not warm in the desert. Nevertheless, Arya was drenched in sweat.

It took her several moments to realize that it had all been a dream. She wasn't really in a dark palace with a dark figure sitting on a dark throne. She was, in fact, still sitting on Firnen's back. Looking below she could see that his wings continued to beat slowly and steadily and below that the endless desert still stretched, harsh and unforgiving, for as far as she could see.

"_Arya? Are you okay?"_

Relief flooded through Arya as she Firnen him enter her mind. It was confirmation: she was safe.

"_Are you okay?"_

After several seconds, Arya managed a slight nod. _"Just a dream."_

Firnen was silent for several seconds, and a feeling of confusion filled his mind. He hadn't seen the nightmare. Just like before.

"_It was another vision again, wasn't it?"_

"_I-I think so. Not a good one. There...there was this room...There was a Ra'zac there...And...another..."_

Arya couldn't say who it was. She'd known exactly who the cloaked man had been, but she was too terrified and confused to talk about it, even to Firnen. It disturbed her in a way nothing had before. It was just _wrong. _

"_Arya..."_

"_Firnen, I really can't."_ Arya said.

"_Who was this man? Why did he scare you so much?"_

Arya shook her head. She could tell Firnen felt worried for her, even a little exasperated, but he let the topic drop. At least he understood her that much. 

He also understood that the man's face _did _indeed scare her, perhaps more than anything she could remember, and she had seen some scary things. But it didn't scare her for the normal reasons. It scared her because she knew that man, and she knew she shouldn't be seeing him as evil. She couldn't help it though.

It scared her even more that what she'd been seeing could have been completely real and the man really was evil. The thought made her feel cold and sick. How could that be? He wasn't like that.

"_Arya...I know you don't want to discuss it, but will you at least allow me to view your memories?"_

Arya knew he was right, even though she expected that having Firnen's focus on them would bring them to the front of her mind. She mentally nodded.

Firnen reached tentatively into her mind, searching her memories of the vision. When he finished, she could feel a sense of disquiet in his mind.

"_Arya..."_ he began gently. _"I did not think it important enough to bring up before, but the memories of him you have shared with me have often felt...dark to me, as if something was lurking under the surface."_

"_What, are you saying you think he's evil?"_ If Arya had been saying it out loud she would have choked on the words.

"_No,"_ replied Firnen, _"I am simply telling you what my instincts have told me. I know far less about him than you do, and what I'm saying is based only on impressions. As I said, I wouldn't have even mentioned it if you hadn't seen these things."_

"_Because you didn't think them significant, or because you thought I'd be upset?"_

"_Both."_ Said Firnen simply.

Arya took several deep, calming breaths and started counting to ten; a technique her father had taught her when she was small.

"_I-I don't know Firnen. Maybe what I'm seeing is symbolic or maybe I'm actually...seeing real things." _Eragon had told her about thing he'd seen in visions once; things that had come true. _"Maybe I'm even seeing the future." _She finished.

Firnen nodded mentally. _"I agree; we don't know enough about these visions of yours yet to guess their meaning. We do, however, need to think about their implications. He said he'd meet you at Tronjheim?"_

"_Yes." _She said. _"Either he assumed I'd go there or...he has other ways of knowing."_

"_He...knows you well. All things considered, both possibilities seem quite plausible." _Said Firnen.

Arya knew he was right.

"_Whoever that was...he was extremely powerful. Do you think we should still go to Tronjheim?" _Arya asked.

"_I don't see that we have a choice if we want some answers. I assume that Orik will be present at the council. He may be able to tell us some things about our dwarven enemies, but I feel that we must go to Tronjheim to find all the answers we need. We will face dangers when we get to them."_

Arya nodded. Wanting to change the subject, she scanned the horizon again. _"So, what happened while I was out?"_

"_Well," _said Firnen, _"we flew over some desert."_

Arya smiled. _"Do you know how long we have left to go?"_

"_I'd say I'll be able to make it tomorrow morning if I push myself, but it'll probably be midday considering the weather won't help matters and my energy levels aren't getting any higher."_

Concern filled Arya. She knew that Firnen was tired. Could he make it through another whole day with the weather likely to turn stormy at any moment?

"_Will you be okay?"_ she asked.

"_Of course I will." _Said Firnen, though she could hear a note of doubt in his voice. He was trying to sound optimistic for her sake. 

"_Will you be alright?" _he returned.

"_Of course I will; I'm not the one who has to carry both of us across this wasteland." _But Arya knew that wasn't what he meant. Her energy hadn't even come close to returning to full strength. If she tried to keep that spell up again she was likely to die of exhaustion without realizing it, and if she didn't she ran the risk of freezing.

But Firnen said none of these things. Arya was glad he didn't. He was the one doing the work; all she had to do was sit tight on his back and stay warm.

"_You make it sound so easy when you're contemplating." _Put in Firnen. _"If I can find some sort of shelter tonight, will you consider resting there?"_

Arya's immediate thought was '_no.' _They didn't have time to lose. But then she thought of how she had come so close to death the previous night. What if she really did die during the coming night? Who would save Eragon then?

But Arya knew she wouldn't. Eragon needed her, and whatever happened she was going to come through for him. Whether a foe stuck her down on the way or not, she wasn't going to die during the journey because of the elements. Of that she was certain.

"_Perhaps." _She said.

The rest of the journey was, needless to say, completely miserable. The rain escalated as the day drew on, coming down heavily during the night. Thunder boomed, the sound seeming to draw closer with every crash. Lightning lit up the sky for a fraction of a second at the time, revealing flashes of the landscape beneath them. There wasn't much to see.

To keep her mind off the creeping chill and the sense that the storm was literally rolling in to get her, she tried to observe what she could about the landscape beneath them. As they flew on into the night, sparse vegetation began to appear.

Firnen was struggling on, despite the raging winds. He seemed just as determined as she was, for which she admired him. He was putting himself through horrible things to help her save a person he barely new.

"_You aren't thinking it through." _Said Firnen. His voice had its usual note of jesting, but Arya could tell he was extremely weary. _"Firstly, our bond means that your feelings for him rub off on me to a certain extent. If, for example, you absolutely hated him, I would naturally feel ill towards him as well, regardless of my own observations about his character. Besides that, he seems to make you happy, and that's a good enough motive for me as any."_

Arya felt touched by that sentiment, but whenever they discussed Eragon feelings of sadness and fear would always surface, so she decided to change the subject.

"_Your eyes are better than mine in the dark." _She said. _"Have you seen any shelter down there?"_

"_No." _Said Firnen.

"_Will you be al-"_

"_Of course I will." _Said Firnen, sounding slightly hurt. _"I am a dragon, am I not?"_

"_This journey is difficult even for a dragon." _Arya countered. _"Since I'm not doing much up here, allow me to lend you some strength."_

Grudgingly, Firnen agreed and allowed her to share a portion of her energy with him. Now Arya could add exhaustion to the list of things that were making her miserable.

Arya stayed awake all that night, partly because going to sleep while feeding Firnen energy would be dangerous and partly because she felt obliged to keep him company. Firnen protested against this several times, urging her to get a few hours of rest. Naturally, she refused.

The night dragged on and on, and the storm dragged closer and closer. They had several very close calls with lightning; one time it blasted the air only a few metres to their side. The sound of thunder deafened Arya for several minutes. They then spent a good amount of time attempting to devise wards for both the thunder and the accompanying blast of energy. Deflecting a lightning bolt would not be easy given their current energy levels, but at least they might still be alive if they did.

The wind tore at Firnen's wings so hard that at some points he was completely unable to move forward. The storm blew them this way and that, with Firnen struggling to stay in the air and Arya struggling not to fall off.

"_We need to land!" _said Arya.

"_Can't!" _replied Firnen, who had just been blasted off course by a particularly powerful gust of wind.

Arya wasn't sure how long they continued like that, or where the wind eventually took them. For all she knew they'd end up on the wrong side of the desert once it was all over. If they hadn't crashed by then.

Firnen's strength was seriously flagging now, with the effort to stay upright taking far more energy than the push forward ever had. Several times they flipped right over, and several more Arya found herself hanging down on one side of the saddle, her head the wrong way up and her desperate screams lost in the wind.

Arya knew they couldn't have taken much more by the time the storm began to abate. She was completely soaked, shaken by the near-death experiences and exhausted from keeping Firnen in the air all night. But she was alive.

As the pale glow of dawn began to fill the world, Firnen and she surveyed their surroundings. There were a few shrubs and bushes and other desert plants scattered about the place, which meant they were coming to the edge of the great desert. Still, the wind was whipping the sand about and there was no shelter. Landing wasn't an option.

So they pressed on. Firnen's sense of direction hadn't failed him, and he seemed to know roughly which way they should go. Arya on the other hand was completely disoriented, but she didn't question Firnen. It wasn't like she had a better idea.

The sun had risen fully when they started to see signs that they were leaving the desert. They began to see trees on the horizon. Small rivers ran through the landscape below. They even spotted a few villages.

"_Civilization." _Said Arya with a profound sense of relief.

The change in scenery did much to lift both of their spirits. They pressed on with renewed vigour.

Arya ate and drank to replenish her energy, as well as taking a few sizable gulps of faelneriv. Feeling much better, she allowed herself to put more energy into Firnen, and they picked up speed.

The wind had died down to a few playful gusts, which seemed almost relaxing as they caught Arya's face. Thankfully, the black clouds seemed to be moving off in another direction. Finally, they had some peace.

It wasn't long before Illeria came into sight, as a small smudge on the horizon. Arya was a little disheartened to see that black storm clouds rolling in over the city, but it wouldn't really matter once they were down on the ground.

It took them a little over another hour to reach the city. Strong winds buffeted them, but did little to hinder Firnen as he soared over the walls towards the Citadel, which had been rebuilt and now looked decidedly less ominous and evil.

Arya had a chance to observe the city and its people as they made their way up to the shelf on which the citadel stood.

On the up side, the streets were clean and all of the houses and shops all looked in good repair: a far cry from the days of Galbatorix's tyranny. To most of her people this would have mattered little: why should they care about the general wellbeing of a race so driven by their passions; so easily swayed to evil?

But Arya, who had worked with the humans for over seventy years, saw them in a different light. Their passions, which were often considered to be volatile and dangerous, could also be a source of great strength of character. And, while they could easily be swayed by offers of wealth or power, the elves, in truth, weren't so different. They were just more subtle about it. In this respect Arya even preferred the humans: they may not always be honest but they were, at least, not good at deception.

Besides, they could also be extremely moral. Humans, who were often considered to be weak by other members of her race, could also be far stronger in their morals and beliefs: never wavering in their ideals, no matter the cost.

"_Forgive me, Arya, for I have much less experience in the matter than you, but that does not seem to me a wholly accurate description of their race. Your assessments seem to be based on your more recent experiences, and not all of them."_

"_Meaning?" _

"_Meaning, you are describing not the entire human race, but rather one human in particular."_

Arya wanted to argue, but she knew that he was right. She just couldn't stop thinking about _him,_ even subconsciously.

"_Your feelings on the matter seem remarkably deep. Why have you not acted on them sooner?"_

"_I-" _Arya wanted to say something like _it wouldn't have been proper _or _it wasn't the right time, _but Firnen would have known she was lying anyway. In truth, she knew why. She had spent so long trying to bury her feelings; trying to hide them away, that she had even hid them from herself, so that by the time she'd found them it had been too late.

"_Arya, I know what you're thinking and I believe you are right. You must realize that whatever your reasons may have been, that kind of thing is bad for you. Burying your feelings that deeply will never help." _

"_I know." _She said.

"_Then promise me you will never do it again. For your sake, please promise me you won't do that to yourself again. You think so highly of Eragon, perhaps you should try to be a little more like him." _

It wasn't long until they reached the citadel. Arya dismounted, and, seeing who they were, the guards immediately opened the gates. One stepped through to meet them, seeming incredibly nervous. With much bowing to the both of them, he explained that the council was to begin the next day. The other leaders were already present, save for King Orrin of Surda and Grimrr Halfpaw of the werecats, who were to arrive that night.

"The queen will be delighted to know you are here, my lady. Regis, please inform the queen that our guest has arrived. Please come with me, my lady, and I shall show you to your quarters."

The guard who had spoken walked in front, with Arya and Firnen behind him, and two more guards bringing up the rear. Arya could feel the men's eyes on her back: something she did _not _appreciate.

"_One of the perks of being an elven queen in a human city."_ Said Firnen.

"_It's not a good thing! It makes me feel uncomfortable."_

"_You're just saying that. I know you love their attention really."_

"_No, I don't!"_

Soon enough they had reached the place where they would be staying: the city's dragon keep, as the guard leading them called it. The hall itself was built into the surrounding stone, with several huge enclaves for dragons to sleep in and smaller side rooms that were presumably meant for the riders.

"If you wish for more comfortable quarters, my lady, please do not hesitate to ask." Arya had a feeling that by '_comfortable' _he meant '_queenly.' _"But the queen seemed to think you would prefer this."

Arya smiled. "Your queen knows me well. These quarters will be more than satisfactory."

The guard nodded. "There is already food here for your dragon," (Firnen snorted out smoke at being called that and the guard broke into a coughing fit, though he kept facing her the whole time.) "and you may request food for yourself by contacting the kitchen via the scrying mirror."

"Thank you, you have been very helpful." She said. The guard bowed, looking very pleased with himself, and then left along with his two companions.

"See? She liked me." The lead guard was whispering at a volume a normal human woman wouldn't be able to hear at that distance.

"Oh, get over yourself, she wasn't the least bit interested in you." Said one of his companions.

"Elves are very subtle!" the leader replied knowingly. "They don't show much emotion on the outside. The trick is to do just the same-"

Arya was finding it harder to concentrate on what they were saying now due to the fact Firnen's mental laughter was completely filling her mind.

"_You know," _he began slyly.

"_Oh, don't even think about it!" _Arya cut in.

Feeling decidedly flustered and quite annoyed, turned and walked wordlessly towards her new quarters.

Arya woke late the next morning, something that really annoyed her. She was usually an early riser: she loved the peacefulness the early morning offered her; it gave her a chance to relax a while before she was invariably pulled down into another tedious day of maddeningly subtle politics.

She dressed in her black travelling leathers, smiling at the thought of how Dathedr's face would look if he saw her in them before she attended a meeting. Nasuada would probably also disapprove, which gave her another incentive.

She contacted the kitchens and requested breakfast. Several minutes later, three servants entered her quarters carrying as much food as their human strength would allow. How they expected her to eat all of it, she didn't know, but she was appreciative of the lack of meat on the multitude of plates.

"_Would you like to share some of this?" _she asked Firnen.

"_Not a chance! It'd make me fat! Imagine what Saphira would think!" _They both laughed.

Arya tried her best to eat what they'd bought for her. The servants had laid out a wide variety of vegetarian food: bread, cheese, fruits and a delicious soup. She did her best to eat it all, but barely got through half.

A short while later, a page boy arrived to inform her that the council had been called into session and gave her directions to the meeting room.

"_I shall fly out to hunt." _Said Firnen. _"I haven't eaten for too long."_

"_Be careful." _Said Arya. _"From what I can hear those storms haven't given up."_

"_Do not worry for me."_ Said Firnen. _"After all, it's you who's going to be facing several hours stuck in a room with Nasuada."_

"_Her council were always boring." _Said Arya. _"But I'll survive. Good luck." _And with that, Firnen took off, flying up through where the roof should be and into the stormy sky.

Soon after, Arya left the dragon keep where they had been staying and headed for the meeting room.

The walk to the meeting room took about five minutes. She made her way briskly through the wide corridors and halls, attracting the attention of more than a few human men as she went (something that annoyed her but amused Firnen no end.)

The place was unrecognisable compared to how it had looked during Galbatorix reign. Colourful tapestries hung from the walls and every room was well lit. She almost stopped to look at some of the designs embroidered and engraved around her: they mainly showed heroic scenes from the war. The images were overly-romanticised but fairly accurate.

The looks on the faces of the humans around her did not reflect the architecture though. Most were grim and troubled. Arya wondered what the humans made of the unnatural events that had been occurring lately. Many would probably believe it to be the anger of their gods, and were wondering what they had done to displease the deities. Even those who didn't had every reason to be concerned. Whatever was happening, it wasn't good. Even the humans could see that.

Soon enough though, she had reached a grand set of oak double doors. Two men wearing polished mail armour and carrying long spears stood by either side. They recognised her immediately and pulled the doors open without a word.

The room beyond them was large and spacious, with a high ceiling and several tall windows which filled the room with what daylight there was to be had under the heavy cloud cover. In the middle of the room was a long table at which sat five figures whom she immediately recognized. King Orrin sat tall and proud at one end of the table, wine glass in hand. Opposite him was Queen Nasuada, looking regal as ever. King Orik's legs dangled well above the floor with Grimrr Halfpaw lounging in cat form on a stool beside him. Opposite them sat Nar Garzhvog, looking as brutish and frightening as ever. Besides him was an empty chair Arya assumed was for her.

"Ah, Queen Arya! Welcome to my hall!" said Nasuada, putting a slight emphasis on the word _my_. Orik turned to greet her. His face looked grave and tired. "Queen Arya." He said.

"Greetings, Herndall." Rumbled Nar garzhvog.

"You're late." Said Orrin. "I suppose it's all we can expect from you elves, though. What does it matter to you if you keep the rest of us mere mortals waiting?"

"King Orrin." She replied cooly. "Still drunk as ever, I see." Orrin recoiled, looking outraged. He opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it, and settled to fill it with wine instead.

Grimmr Halpaw said nothing.

"I think what King Orrin is trying to say," said Nasuada, looking pointedly at the Surdan King, "is 'please join us.'

Orrin shrugged and took another swig of wine.

"_Don't mind him." _Said Grimrr Halfpaw . "_I don't think he's been sober for a good few months now." _

Arya made her way to her seat by Nar Garzhvog's side, trying to keep her head held high and proudly so as not to appear weak.

"I trust your and Firnen's stay last night was comfortable?"

"Indeed, it was." Said Arya. "Thank you for providing such excellent accommodation for us."

"Speaking of the _two _of you, where is your mighty dragon now?" asked King Orrin.

Firnen, who had been listening quietly the whole time, immediately took action. Using Arya's mind a as a bridge, he said to all of the people in the room _"I apologize for my absence, great king, but I am incredibly hungry right now. I'll be with you as soon as I've finished eating this incredibly brash and annoying little creature I've just come across." _Everyone else in the room, including Arya, stifled laughed, but Arya didn't think Orrin caught on.

"Well," said Nasuada hurriedly before Orrin could work it out, "let's get to the point. We are here to discuss this darkness which seems to be gathering."

"Aye." Said Orik. "We have all felt it."

"_Except maybe Orrin." _Said Firnen to Arya. "_He's probably been too drunk to notice." _Arya had to fight hard not to crack a smile.

"Arya, if you will?"

"Well," said Arya, "I wish I had better things to report, but I come instead with grave news."(at this, king Orrin grumbled something about bringers of bad news and elves that Arya didn't quite make out due to the slurring of his words.) "I am sure you all know that...That Lord Eragon is missing. That he was kidnapped, by members of a dwarven clan known as Az Sweldn Rak Anhun." Everyone nodded gravely, and Arya saw Orik clench his fists under the table. "Well...that's not all. We've lost contact with New Vrorengard."

Several things happened at once. Orrin slammed down his glass and swore, Nar Garzhvog let out a huge roar of surprise that made Arya flinch and Orik's face turned deathly pale.

"Are you saying," said Orrin, with the tone of a man desperately trying to contain his fury, "that our _protecters _aren't able to help us?"

"No." Said Arya levelly. "I am saying that we can't contact them. The day before I left Blodgharm and several others set out to look for Lord Eragon in the surrounding islands. I have tried to contact him with a scrying mirror but I have had no success."

"Well, are you sure your mirror isn't just faulty?" asked Orrin.

"It was working just fine when Queen Nasuada contacted me." Replied Arya emotionlessly. "I don't know why we cannot speak to Blodgharm, but I have sent some people to investigate."

"Well," said Orrin, "why weren't we informed? Didn't we have a right to know?"

"I thought," said Nasuada coolly, "that it would be best for us to gather and discuss the matter amongst ourselves, to avoid the spread of...rumours. I am sure you are well aware of how things can be...distorted in the telling." From the sour look on Orrin's face, Arya deduced that he knew a lot about rumours.

"_Something tells me he's been the subject of a few." _Said Firnen.

"_I wonder how many are true?" _said Arya.

"Are you suggesting," said Orrin, "that I would allow such information to become common knowledge?"

"Not at all, King Orrin." Said Nasuada. "But, as I'm sure you understand, things can be overheard." That shut him up, for some reason.

"_So," _said Grimmr Halfpaw, addressing Arya but allowing the mental communication to be heard by everyone present, "are you suggesting that New Vrorengard has been destroyed?"

Nar Garzhvog shook his head. "Firesword is a great warchief. But his students...they are young and inexperienced. Our two riders had only just completed the rite of passage. Of the elf-warriors, I cannot say."

"The elves who founded New Vrorengard with Lord Eragon were all exceptional spellcasters." Said Arya. "However, from what Blodhgarm told me, these dwarves are dangerous, even to them. One of their number was killed during Lord Eragon's kidnap."

Orik nodded. "They have been known to use...enchanted weapons to deadly effect in the past. However, I have seen your elven spellcasters in battle. Without the element of surprise on their side, I doubt the dwarves could have actually defeated them."

Arya was taken aback. She had rarely heard a dwarf praise her kind for anything.

"_The dwarf shows unusual objectiveness." _Agreed Firnen.

"Perhaps not." Said Arya carefully. "But there is more."

Orrin cocked an eyebrow. "Of_ course_ there is." He said.

"While we were leaving Du Weldenvarden," said Arya, "We were attacked. By...Ra'zac and Lethbraka."

"WHAT?" roared Orrin. Garzhvog growled. Orik's face turned from pale to grey. Even Grimrr finally started to take an interest.

"That's impossible." Said Orrin after a few seconds of silence. "You saw the last of their race destroyed yourself."

"And I also heard Galbatorix say that there were more that he hadn't given to the priests of Helgrind." Replied Arya angrily.

"Ho-how many?" asked Orik. She was amazed at how shaken the usually gruff and loud dwarf's voice sounded.

"Five Ra'zac." She said. "And two Lethbraka." There was a stunned silence.

"This... This is grave news indeed." Said Orik.

"It is indeed troubling." Said Nasuada. "And I have a feeling it's all linked. Perhaps a dwarven clan could not do serious damage to New Vrorengard, but these Ra'zac...they are another matter."

"Indeed they are." Said a vaguely familiar voice. She turned around and almost jumped out of her seat in shock. Standing there, framed in the double doorway with two guards slumped on the floor behind him, was Murtagh.


	8. The Prophesy of Korgan

**Hello again! It's been too long, my friends! Honestly, I don't have a good excuse for not updating in so long, except that this chapter was quite hard to write as a lot of important stuff is introduced. Still today I forced myself to cut it out, and ended up finishing it all at once! I will try to do better in the future, guys, and I apologize for the wait! **

**Okay, now I've got that outta my system onto our regular programme: **

**Remember to read the other stories in the Circle of Circles! If you don't know what they're called and who wrote them by now you've skipped through the whole story and the stuff below will make absolutely no sense to you, but I'll tell you them anyway because the contract says I have to. **

**Half Breed: Tamerlain85**

**Switching Lanes: Elemental Dragon Slayer. **

**Hope you enjoy, please review! Oh, and from now on, the first person to review a chapter gets the next one PRE RELEASE! Please be awear though that it'll be an unedited copy as you get it as soon as I'm finished typing it up. If yuo get it, please PM with comments/suggestions! **

Nasuada's gaze snapped to him faster than Arya thought possible for a human; her eyes wide and body absolutely still.

"Murtagh." She said in the voice Arya had heard herself using the few times she had greeted Eragon through the scrying mirror: it was breathless and disbelieving.

As the words left her mouth, several things happened. King Orrin span around far too fast, almost toppling over as he let out a loud exclamation of "WHAT?" Grimrr hissed, Garzhvog roared and Orik let out a throaty growl, like a hound giving its final warning before leaping in to attack. Nasuada stood completely still, looking absolutely stunned.

"_I shall search for Thor-" _Began Firnen Immediately.

"_No!" _said Arya. _"Don't. Thorn is older and stronger."_

"_I can beat that abomination..." _growled Firnen.

"_Firnen, no! Not now, at least." _

But Firnen had already started to fly back towards the city.

"What are you doing here?" Nasuada asked in a small voice.

"I heard there was a party." Said Murtagh, with a hint of a smile that reminded Arya very much of Eragon. "And, when an invitation was not forthcoming, I decided I'd turn up anyway."

Nasuada was silent again for a second, then, drawing herself up to her full height, she shouted "HOW DARE YOU? YOU COME INTO THIS CITY, AFTER EVERYTHING, NO PERMISSION, AND THEN... THE GUARDS!..." Arya got the distinct impression that Nasuada wasn't exactly talking about his crimes under Galbatorix when she said "after everything."

"Are asleep." Murtagh finished, striding up purposely to the table. "I apologize, but they were becoming tiresome."

"Stay back, you filth!" roared Orik. His face, which had been ashen gray seconds before, was now a violent crimson, and his eyes looked wild. "Guards! GUARDS! INTRUDER!"

Murtagh rolled his eyes. "Am I displeasing you, your _highness?"_

"Now, listen here, you," began Orrin, "you have no right to be here! Do you think you could just _stroll _in here and get away with it? You did, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?"

Murtagh sighed. "You must be king Orrin." He said disdainfully. "It is a great honour that I now have the chance to know you by more than reputation!"

Orrin's face contorted, turning a terrifying shade of violet. "I SHALL NOT BE SPOKEN TO BY THE LIKES OF YOU, FILTH!"

"Not to worry, I was getting a little tired of this conversation too." Said Murtagh.

"Hands up!" yelled a voice from behind. Arya turned her attention to the doorway, where two soldiers now stood, holding loaded crossbows aimed at Murtagh.

Murtagh raised his hands but otherwise completely ignored the soldiers.

"My lady," he said evenly to Nasuada, "could you please send these men away? They are being rather disruptive."

Nasuada wore an incredulous expression, seemingly too stunned at his boldness to offer any reply.

"Guards!" roared Orrin, trying to sound as imperious as he could in his drunken state. "Arrest this man!"

The guards took a few hesitant steps into the open doorway, looking like they'd really prefer not to, thank you very much.

Murtagh rolled his eyes and muttered something that not even Arya could here. With a rumble like thunder the doors swept shut, pushing the guards back with them.

"Ah, that's better." Said Murtagh as if nothing had happened. "Now, where were we?"

By unspoken consent, Garzhvog, Orik and Arya drew their weapons.

"Murtagh." Said Nasuada, her voice almost shaking, "Drop your sword and surrender."

Murtagh cracked a smile. "Come now your majesty, is that any way to treat an old friend?"

An incredulous noise escaped the throat of Orrin, while Orik growled even more deeply than he had before.

"What?" asked Orrin in a low voice.

Nasuada's expression hardened. "I do not know when we became friends, rider." She said, her voice cold.

"Drop your weapon, Murtagh." Said Arya, surprised at how angry her voice sounded.

Murtagh kept his hands raised. "Please, everybody, calm down. I mean you no harm." He added in the ancient language.

Garzhvog and Orik roared and charged. Murtagh's sword flashed out. Arya realized that the dwarf and urgal thought that Murtagh had just uttered a spell.

"STOP!" yelled Arya. Orik and Garzhvog turned to her, incredulous. "He means us no harm." She quickly added.

"That I'll not believe!" roared Orik.

Arya shook her head. "He cannot have lied. He does not intend to hurt us."

Slowly, the two of them lowered their weapons.

Murtagh simply walked around them, smiling. "Well, it's good to see that someone here has an open mind! I am glad to finally meet you, queen Arya."

Quick as a flash, Arya moved her sword up to Murtagh's neck. "Do not approach me." she said, she was trembling with anger. "I do not trust you, rider."

Murtagh rolled his eyes. "Must we all be so hostile?"

Arya glared at him. "Step back." She said in a low voice.

She had never really met him before, and she held less ill will towards him because of his actions than most. She more than any of them understood how powerful the knowledge of one's true name could be, and what an oath in the ancient language meant. Still, there was more than that. He had caused Eragon huge amounts of pain, and for that she hated him.

"No, I don't think I shall." Said Murtagh. His voice was as calm as ever but it held a slight note of steel to it that told Arya that he was getting angry. "If you wish to fight me, why don't you try, elf?" he added, his voice now hard and cold.

Anger blazed in Arya's heart: she wanted nothing more than to strike him down. But there was something about the sound of his voice that made her think he was absolutely sure that if they fought he would win. Slowly, she lowered her sword.

Murtagh smiled and sheathed his, now once again looking completely at ease. "Our dragons are currently circling each other about a thousand feet above us." Said Murtagh. "I have told Thorn to refrain from attacking. Would you kindly ask of Firnen the same thing?

"_I can beat this abomination."_ Said Firnen hotly.

"_No."_ Replied Arya. _"They...they mean us no harm, as best as I can tell. Do nothing yet."_

"Thank you." Said Murtagh at once. "Now, to business then. I am sure everybody here is aware that a darkness is approaching, and that my Brother has been kidnapped and that the two things are probably related."

Everyone expect Orik and Orrin, who were still fuming, nodded.

"How do you know about Eragon?" enquired Arya, her sense of distrust increasing.

"Word gets around." He said airily. "If you wish to know more about it, I suggest you ask good king Orik here." Said Muragh, looking expectantly at the dwarf.

Orik's muscles clenched and his face began to return to its original ashen colour.

"You...it is true that you know about this?" asked Nasuada quietly.

Orik shook his head. "I cannot be certain of anything." he said. It seemed to Arya that he was indeed quite certain but also hopeful that he was wrong.

Nasuada shook her head. "Anything that you think might be relevant would help."

Orik nodded. "Well, there is a certain prophesy. I...I know not whether it is connected with these events, but..."

"Go on." Said Murtagh sharply.

Orik's face darkened. "Well," he said, "if you know of it, why not recite it yourself, rider?"

"Because," said Murtagh, "I wish to hear your, ah, interpretation of it."

Orik was shaking with suppressed anger, but all he said was "very well."

After a few seconds silence, he began said "These words were spoken by our first king as he lay dying after the completion of Tronjheim. What their meaning is, we have never known, but as best we can tell he was repeating what another person had told him. He seemed to believe that it was vital the words be recorded; that they were some kind of message that had to be passed on.

'_When days grow dark and skies are grim, _

_When shadow blocks the sun,_

_When the people are at rest, _

_And think the war is won._

_The king of darkness comes again to chain the king of light, _

_The only hope for gods and men, _

_Is to reunite. _

_Remember how we were deceived in the days of yore, _

_Remember how we used to be in days that came before._

_One of noble lineage,_

_Greater than they know,_

_The one whose blood is half eternal_

_Across the sea must go. _

_A single choice they must make,_

_To follow truth or lie,_

_And if they choose the wrong one, _

_Our world shall surely die.'" _

Everyone stood in silence. For how long, they couldn't tell. Then Murtagh began to nod slowly, bringing them out of their reverie.

"You preserved the words of your king very well-much better than I expected." Said Murtagh thoughtfully. "They are surprisingly similar to the prophesy I have read."

"But..." began Nasuada, "What does it all mean? Does anyone know?"

"The days are dark and the skies are grim. Shadow blocks the sun." Rumbled Nar Garzhvog.

Arya nodded. "I think we can agree that this prophesy seems to apply now. She said.

Orik nodded. "We defeated the mad king only a year ago. That sounds like the second line: 'when the people are at rest, and think the war is won.'

"Well, thank you for those insights, but it doesn't help us much, does it? What's all this about the king of darkness rising again and chaining the king of light?" said Orrin.

Murtagh turned to Orrin. "That line refers to two of the dwarven gods, as best I can tell. Guntera is the king of light, and his father Angvard the king of darkness. Dwarven _mythology _says that he was overthrown by Guntera and the other gods overthrew him before Helzvog created them."

Orik looked at Murtagh strangely. "How is it that you know this?"

"I did a lot of reading." Replied Murtagh coolly.

Orik looked suspicious but said nothing further.

"So," said Nasuada, "you are saying that this...Angvard is supposed to be returning?" the well disguised but detectable note of disbelief in her voice increased Arya's respect for her a little.

Grimrr shook his head. _"This prophesy...does not apply to these times." _He said.

"What do you mean?" asked Arya.

"_There are older accounts than Dwarven mythology_." Said Grimrr. _"This...king of darkness...Angvard...he did indeed return. It was long after he had been first overthrown by Guntera but still uncounted years before our time."_

"Are you questioning mine people's knowledge of the gods?" asked Orik hotly.

"_What you have are myths and legends." _Replied Grimrr lazily. _"They are indeed based on fact, but they are not necessarily the truth. We werecats have heard many things over the ages, dwarf, and we have explored many places. And we do not easily forget information." _

This surprised Arya. Grimrr seemed to be agreeing, to some extent, with Orik. He believed in those gods.

"Are you saying that you believe the dwarves to be right? About the gods?" At this, Orik shot her a dirty look.

"_Not at all." _Replied Grimrr, sounding a little disdainful. _"Myths often have a basis in truth. But do I believe half the things the dwarves do about their gods? No. On the other hand, my race is quite adept when it comes to the matter of history. If you do not believe in what I am saying, perhaps you would like a second opinion." _He turned his head to Murtagh.

Murtagh smiled ruefully. "Over the last year, Thorn and I have journeyed to many places and learned a good few things. What Grimrr says is accurate. Arya, you have heard of the Grey folk, have you not?"

Arya nodded.

"From what I can tell, the gods...Angvard, Guntera and the others...they were members of that race. It was so long ago that Alagesia no longer remembers those events as history but...there is some truth to them."

"_What do you think?" _Arya asked Firnen.

"_I find it difficult to believe." _Replied Firnen simply.

"Anyway," said Murtagh, "Grimrr is correct. According to the information we have, Angvard did return. He corrupted a great part of his race and led them in a war that cracked the very fabric of this world. However, as you can see, he was defeated once more."

"Enough of this." Rumbled Garzhvog. "These...dwarven gods are naught but hearth-stories. I will hear no more of them." And he stormed out, almost breaking the heavy oak doors off their hinges.

"Good riddance." Orrin muttered.

Arya tended to agree with Garzhvog, but, she realized, he believed in his own set of gods which were just as unlikely as the dwarven ones.

"So," said Nasuada, with the air of somebody trying to get a conversation back on track, "is this...this prophesy relevant, or has it already come to pass?"

Orik shook his head. "We cannot disregard this: it can't be a coincidence. All of the lines that describe _when _it will come to pass match up with what is happening now. This prophesy _has _to apply to this situation. Angvard is returning again."

As he said this, all the warmth seemed to leave the room, and thunder boomed outside.

"I agree." Said Murtagh. "If we are to understand what is happening, we must look to the lines of this prophesy."

"What about Garzhvog?" Asked Nasuada.

"He clearly does not wish to discuss the subject." Replied Arya with distaste. If the urgal didn't want to help them, then that was fine with her. "We should leave him to do as he wishes."

Everyone nodded.

Nasuada nodded. "Very well. It says that our only hope is to reunite with the gods. Well, how do we do that?" she asked.

Orik shook his head. "That is not a matter under our control. If the gods see fit to reveal themselves to us, then that will be their doing. We should try the next few lines and see what we can glean from them."

"Remember how we were deceived in the days of yore." Said Murtagh. "I don't think that will help us much. It could mean anything."

"It must be some kind of important deception. Something that is connected to dwarven mythology, I expect." Said Nasuada. "King Orik, can you think of anything? Any old stories that might have something to do with this?"

"There are too many." Said Orik heavily. "Any one of them could be relevant. You would need to talk to a scholar from Dûrgrimst Quan for that."

"Is _any _of this prophesy going to help us?" protested Orrin.

"Perhaps, or perhaps not." Said Murtagh levelly. "Shall we find out?"

Orrin shrugged and took another swig of wine.

"Remember how we used to be in days that came before." Remembered Arya. "Who is 'we?'

"The dwarves, I would expect." Said Nasuada.

Orik shook his head. "Like I said, from what we can tell Korgan was repeating what he had been told. Anyone could have given him those words." Said Orik.

Arya thought for a moment. "Do you know if he asked for the information to be delivered to anyone?"

Orik shook his head. "As far as I know, all he wanted was for the lines to be recorded precisely and kept safe. We honoured those wishes: Gannel, the High Priest of Guntera recited them to the other clan chiefs and I a few days ago. Unfortunately, several of the chiefs must have let the information slip, for there has been much panic in Tronjheim lately." He said, looking rather disgruntled.

"_That would explain why he looks so worn out." _Said Firnen to Arya.

"What next, then?" asked Nasuada.

"One of noble lineage, greater than they know." Said Orrin, his words melting together. "One of us then, perhaps?"

"_Trust him to remember that line." _Said Arya to Firnen. _"And to expect it to be himself." _

"_The one whose blood is half eternal." _Said Grimrr. _"Do any of you have half eternal blood?"_

"That sounds to me like a Half-elf."Said Arya. "Half eternal. We elves are immortal, so anyone born a half elf would have half eternal blood."

"Do we know of any such people?"

Arya shook her head. "It is rare for an elf to have children with a member of another race."

"_But not unheard of." _Said Firnen gently. Arya felt herself tense as emotions of sadness, regret and doubt filled her, but she continued on.

"Of course not." Said Orrin, smiling. "You're far too good for us, aren't you?" He was silenced by angry glares from Orik, Nasuada and Arya while Grimrr, it seemed, had gone back to being supremely uninterested.

"_Don't be too hard on him." _Said Firnen. _"It's quite hard to be interested in what that man is saying, you know." _

"There have been a few elf-human 'hybrids' over the years, but I know of none who are still alive." continued Arya, suppressing a smile.

"That does not mean there are none." Said Nasuada.

Arya nodded.

"Perhaps you are looking at this the wrong way." Said Murtagh.

They all looked at him expectantly, with the exception of Orrin, who seemed to have lost focus on his surroundings.

"What about Eragon?" he asked. Arya felt herself tense when Murtagh said his name. She didn't trust herself to discuss Eragon with all of these rulers around her. If she lost control again it would be disastrous.

"_Calm down." _Said Firnen. _"You won't get him back without talking to people about him." _

Arya nodded and tried to pull herself together as Murtagh continued. "Half eternal blood. Didn't he undergo some kind of transformation at the Agheti Blodghren which gave him the power of an elf? Wouldn't that fit?"

Orik nodded, though he looked pained to be agreeing with Murtagh. "Prophesies often have strange meanings. You could be right."

"Also," said Nasuada, "Eragon was captured. Maybe they took him to make sure he couldn't do whatever he had to do."

"The thought of knurla working with the king of darkness turns mine stomach." Said Orik. "But I have to agree that it seems plausible."

"_Perhaps this would be a good opportunity..." _said Firnen.

Arya sent thoughts of agreement to him, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Then, it seems, we need to rescue Eragon in order to stand a chance against...whoever it is we must fight." The others nodded in assent, while Murtagh looked at her, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"I tend to agree. What did that prophesy say? That if he makes the wrong choice, our world will surely die? Well, I suppose we'd better make sure that he has the opportunity to make said choice then." Said Murtagh, giving Arya a slight wink.

After all he had done to Eragon, Arya found it hard to believe that Murtagh had returned solely for his Half Brother's good. Still, she had to admit to herself he seemed to be trying to help her.

"_And for that we must be grateful, yet also all the more wary. It is often those who appear to be the most helpful that are the traitors." _Firnen said darkly.

"Even so," continued Murtagh, "I believe you were right earlier, Orik. We will need to speak to the dwarven scholars to get any more information."

"What do you mean, 'we?' said Orik in a low voice.

"You, Arya and I, naturally." He said with the air of someone stating the obvious. "You need to return to Tronjheim anyway, and Arya and I need to rescue Eragon."

"You will not enter the Beor mountains whilst I am king, murderer!" said Orik, his voice rising with fury.

All was silent for a few moments.

"You are Eragon's brother, are you not?" said Murtagh, his voice deadly quiet.

"How you know that, I do not know, but that does not make us brothers, by any stretch!" replied Orik.

"I wouldn't want to be, by any stretch." Replied Murtagh. "I do believe, however, that if anything happens to Eragon it is on YOUR HONOUR!" he said, slamming his fist onto the table in cold fury. "It is, therefore, your obligation to accept the help of those you need, whether you like it or not! OR AM I MISTAKEN?"

Orik was trembling with anger. "You murdered Hrogthar. That man took me in, he raised me, he was like my father!"

The silence seemed to intensify, and Arya's sensitive ears rang. The blood drained from Murtagh's face. "I regret it." He said.

"YOU REGRET?" roared Orik, seemingly stunned at this reply. "YOU REGRET KILLING HIM? TELL THAT TO A MAN WHO'LL BELIEVE IT, IF YOU CAN FIND ONE!"

"I believe him." Said Arya quietly. All eyes turned to her and a look of betrayal came over Orik's face.

"This man is no killer." She said, looking him straight in the eye. "I believe that he regrets his actions. And I believe that he is trying to help Eragon now."

And she knew it was true. She still didn't trust the red rider, but he didn't seem like a murderer to her. What his intentions were, she didn't know, but she did believe that he wanted to help Eragon. Eragon could often be a fool, but he was one of those people you couldn't help but want to assist: a person who you wanted to help simply because you knew he'd help you, whether he knew you or not.

"As...as do I." Said Nasuada shakily. "King Orik... He is not the man you think."

The way she said that made Arya wondered what had happened between them while Nasuada was imprisoned in Urubaen.

"King Orik." Said Arya, in the most reasonable, convincing tone she could muster. "Murtagh can help us save Eragon. And if the prophesy is to be believed, he _needs _to be saved. We must accept this rider's help."

For what felt like several minutes, Orik nodded. "Very well, rider. I will accept your help because I must, for Eragon's sake. But do not think that I have forgiven you."

Murtagh smiled jovially, seeming instantly back to his old self. "That's the spirit! Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall await you at the city gates. We have more than half a day left and I intend not to waste it! I trust you will handle the provisions, lady Nasuada. Good day to you all!"

**And so, finally, after eight chapters, the scene is set! This is it, ladies and gents! It's finally begun! Please tell me what you think, anything is helpful! **


	9. Flight to Farthen Dur

**Hi guys, long time no see-a full two weeks if my calculations are correct! I really am sorry about the time this has taken me, but I've been pretty busy lately. But I'm sure you don't want to hear my excuses! Easter's coming up, giving me a nice opportunity for me to make it up to you. So, in the spirit of a guy being painfully killed and that somehow leading to the exchange of chocolate, I am going to PROMISE to have the next chapter up this Friday, come rain, shine, or meteor. **

**Also, remember to read Half Breed by Tamerlain85 and Switching Lanes by Elemental Dragon slayer-here's to hoping they get into the updating spirit as well! **

**Also, remember that the first person to review this chapter gets a pre-release copy of the next one-and well done to Mark Silverwing for doing just that last time! **

**And without further ado, I give you chapter 9, which I do believe is now this story's longest one! Enjoy! Unless of course you don't like it! **

A little less than an hour later Murtagh and Arya stood outside the city gates with their dragons. Both Thorn and Firnen had been hostile towards each other at first, and neither had been pleased at the arrival of the other's rider. Arya understood and shared Firnen's wariness of Thorn, but it was going to be a long trip and they didn't have time for the dragons to argue so she did what she could to placate him while Murtagh did the same with Thorn.

Besides, if it had come to a fight between Firnen and Thorn, Arya had little doubt that the crimson dragon could easily defeat the emerald, and she didn't expect Thorn would show much restraint. He was massive: almost half as large again as Saphira had been when she and Eragon had left and nearly twice Firnen's size. Besides that, Thorn had plenty of experience fighting other dragons and was more strongly built than Firnen. While Firnen would have been much more agile, he was no match for Thorn's power.

Presently, Murtagh was having a rather heated discussion with the third member of their party who had joined them minutes before.

"I shall not ride upon your beast, murderer!" the dwarf snarled.

Thunder boomed out from the ominously black sky, reflecting Murtagh's rapidly deteriorating mood.

"_That is quite agreeable, dwarf."_ Put in Thorn so that all present could hear.

Arya closed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a deep, calming breath. "I am sure Firnen would be happy to carry both of us, your majesty." She said in the diplomatic, assertive voice she was so used to using in long and tedious sessions with her council.

"Dwarves are not meant to ride dragons!" he replied angrily.

"Well, that's strange, considering there are currently two dwarven dragon riders." Replied Murtagh testily.

"I am no rider." Replied Orik with an air of finality. "I shall return to Tronjheim via the ground."

Arya shook her head vigourously: she could not let this happen. "King Orik, it could take weeks for you to return to your people via conventional methods. You must understand that we don't have that time-Eragon doesn't have the time!"

"You and the red rider can return without me." He replied.

Murtagh snorted. "I have heard that the dwarves had thick bones, but I didn't realize that their skulls were the same!"

Orik's face contorted with rage. "How dare you?" he roared.

"What do you think would happen, _your highness, _if the elven queen and the red rider were to knock on the doors of Farthen Dur, accompanied by two dragons?" Murtagh snarled. "They would attack us on site, that's what, and then I would have to go through all the trouble of killing them."

"You underestimate mine people!" replied Orik menacingly. "You delude yourself if you think such things."

Murtagh smiled grimly. "Really? I haven't had any trouble with them in the past."

Arya stifled a groan. Of all the things Murtagh could have said, this was the worst. He should have known better than to refer to the dwarves he had killed in the war at such a delicate time, but judging by the look on his face he was too livid with the present company to care.

Orik's hand grasped the handle of his hammer. "You murdering filth!" he roared. When he seemed unable to find any other words that could fully express his discontent, he spat on the ground by Murtagh's feet.

"Don't try me." Replied Murtagh in a murderous tone. "Listen up, dwarf. We need you to arrive when we do. If you do not, we will never gain admittance to Tronjheim and we will never learn what we need to know. That will probably mean that we won't find Eragon and that whatever evil is coming will destroy us, and you'll be to blame!"

Orik seemed quite unconvinced. "I-"

"You two, stop it!" Arya yelled, unable to contain herself any longer. "Stop arguing! I don't care if you don't like each other; all I care about is getting Eragon back! Don't you realize we need to work together here?"

Orik and Murtagh stood there glaring daggers at each other, neither saying anything but both clearly still furious. After a few seconds, Murtagh closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths.

"She's right. Eragon needs us both." He said. "King Orik, we need your help, but that doesn't matter. What matters that Eragon needs your help, and your people need his."

Orik stood still for a long moment, silent. Then, he replied with a tiny nod. "Very well." He said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

At that moment Nasuada strode through the gates, accompanied by two guards and Grimrr prowling gracefully beside her.

"I trust you have enough supplies to last you until you reach Farthen Dur?" she asked, her voice strangely subdued.

Murtagh smiled and nodded, his anger seemingly forgotten for the most part. "Indeed, my lady. Thank you for providing them. Now, where is good king Orrin? I was hoping we'd get a chance to say a proper _royal_ farewell!"

A ghost of a smile crossed Nasuada's lips. "I think he may have gotten lost along the way." She said.

"What kind of a king can't hold his liquor?" asked Orik with mock incredulousness, sounding more lively now.

Nasuada's smile became more pronounced. "Well, I suggest you get going before he manages to find his way here." She replied.

"Well, that gives us plenty of time, then! Still, we've got a rider to save, so I suppose we must be off." Said Murtagh, mounting Thorn in one fluid motion.

Smiling, Arya climbed into Firnen's saddle, then proceeding to help Orik to do the same: a process which took rather longer. Within about a minute he was sitting not so comfortably in front of Arya, looking as though there were a lot of places he'd rather be.

Nasuada was no longer smiling now. Looking directly at Murtagh, she said "Take care. All of you." she added as an afterthought.

Orik looked darkly from Nasuada to Murtagh with an air of mistrust and dire comprehension, but said nothing.

"_Our time is short." _Said Grimrr halfpaw to all present, sounding unusually interested. _"Fly swiftly."_

"_As if I wouldn't!" _said Thorn. Firnen projected thoughts of agreement.

Murtagh and Arya nodded to each other. Orik, looking paler and grimmer than he had while reciting the prophesy, clutched the spike in front of him for dear life. As, one, the dragons kicked off the ground, soaring towards the Beor Mountains and Farthen Dur.

For the next few hours Thorn maintained a breakneck pace which Firnen struggled to keep up with. That, coupled with the powerful wind, buffeting them around, the ominous black clouds looming above them and the lighning that flashed through them accompanied by deafening booms of thunder made it a less than idea first time for Orik to experience flight on dragonback.

At one point, Arya heard Orik grumble that "Saphira had been better" something that Firnen took great offence to. Arya, however, was fed up of sitting in uncomfortable silence, so she responded to it anyway.

"You've flown on Saphira?" she yelled above the roaring wing.

Orik nodded, not daring to turn and face her. "Aye!" he said. "And I didn't enjoy that at all, and then we didn't have to deal with all this wind!"

Arya knew that it was only a matter of time before the rain would begin to pour down and make the situation far worse, but she decided it was best not to mention that.

The rain started to come down at about midday and predictably further dampened Orik's mood, evident in the constant stream of dwarvish he was muttering under his breath which sounded suspiciously like curses to Arya.

Murtagh and Thorn on the other hand seemed quite unbothered; Arya supposed they were used to it. Simply from the way he flew Arya could tell Thorn was strong: though the wind often slowed Firnen down, sometimes almost to a complete stop, Thorn simply kept on ploughing through it. Arya supposed that in this situation his weight made him faster: it took more to blow him off course than it did for Firnen.

They kept going hard like that all day, despite the steadily increasing amount of rain and the rapidly dropping temperature of the wind, which whipped their faces and hands, making them burn with cold.

Arya was freezing, but she could tell she was nowhere near as bad as the dwarf. As an elf she had a natural resistance to extreme temperatures, but Orik was clearly having a much harder time. The dwarf alternated between hugging himself to conserve his body temperature and hugging the neck spike in front of them when the wind buffeted Firnen.

The dwarf's short legs also made it very hard for him to remain seated on Firnen, and there were some close calls. Arya had to physically haul him upright several times, while the dwarf yelled and cursed and waved his arms wildly. After a few moments of this Murtagh and Thorn would hear his yells of distress and pull underneath him in case he fell, but Orik didn't seem to find the thought of Murtagh and Thorn underneath him very comforting.

Orik's distress seemed to turn to absolute terror as it became yet darker and the sun began to set. From what Arya could see, he was clutching the neck spike in front of him for dear life, his teeth clenched and his eyes shut tight. Ahead of them, the storm clouds loomed darker than the night. From what Arya could make out, they were flying directly into another massive storm front.

To make matters worse the strength of the wind continued to rise as night set in, which was not only bad news for Orik but for Firnen too. By what would normally be dusk the wind was really starting to tire him: even when it wasn't blowing straight at him he was going at only half his normal speed. Arya supposed that after they had been journeying for so long he wasn't exactly at his best any way.

She wasn't sure if Thorn was being affected, but Murtagh showed a visible change in demeanour that told Arya the cold was taking its toll on him. Still, no words passed between them and Arya couldn't say she didn't like it.

The wind kept blowing harder and harder, forcing Firnen to fight harder and harder against it. Every drop of rain now seemed to be trying to slap Arya in the face, and the booms of thunder were now becoming more than ominous. To Arya they seemed like war drums, heralding the approach of the massive storm as they drew closer and closer to the thick of it.

Arya felt a mind stretch out cautiously to meet her own. Instinctively, she raised her mental barriers, but realizing it was Murtagh she slowly lowered them.

"_We'll have to land." _He said. _"The storm is too strong."_

Arya had to agree with him. This was reinforced by the sight of Orik with his head bowed, whispering a prayer to his gods to save them.

"_What do you think, Firnen?" _she asked, withdrawing from the mental contact so that she could converse with her dragon in private.

"_I...I will be able to make it, but it will cost much of my energy." _The dragon said uncertainly.

Arya shook her head. _"You need your strength." _She said.

"_Very well." _Said Arya, returning to the contact with Murtagh.

Thorn immediately began to dive steeply. Firnen began to follow, but when Orik started to yell incoherently he altered his descent to a shallower angle.

Thorn's weight made it relatively easy for him to get out of the air, but the wind kept Firnen's wings open, pushing him back into the air and buffeting him around, making it almost impossible for him. Eventually, Arya tried using a spell to still the wind around Firnen. However, the wind seemed to be responding to her efforts: the more energy she put into the spell, the harder it blew, forcing her to eventually abandon the attempt.

Murtagh stood and watched this for a while with a look of growing unease on his face. Then, he muttered something under his breath. Nothing happened, and Murtagh's expression became even graver. After a few more moments, he raised his hand and yelled another spell.

At once, Firnen's wings snapped to his sides, allowing him to fold them. They plummeted the last few metres down to earth and landed hard.

It took several seconds for Arya to realize what Murtagh had done. "How did you do that?" she asked, struggling to be heard over the roaring wind and the rain, which was coming down in sheets.

"Galbatorix thought it was important for me to understand the anatomy of Dragons." He replied. "Obviously, that was so that I knew how to kill them," (Firnen growled at this) "but the knowledge has other uses too."

Firnen crouched low, allowing Arya to dismount and pull Orik, (who was now shaking visibly and looking very pale) off his back.

Arya surveyed the area around them. It was relatively flat and grassy, surrounded on all sides by gently rolling hills-As good a spot as any to set up camp.

"Are you alright, dwarf?" asked Murtagh, not sounding very concerned.

"I'm fine." Orik replied, trying his best to sound his usual gruff self and not meeting with much success.

"Well," said Arya, trying to break up a conversation which obviously wasn't going to end well, "I don't see any trees nearby, so making a fire won't be an option."

"How do you expect to make a fire in this rain anyway?" asked Orik.

"We're camping under our dragon's wings." Said Murtagh, at which the dwarf looked quite horrified.

"Now, see here, riding is enough, but lying underneath-"

"_Don't worry, dwarf, I am quite alright with you sleeping out here." _Said Thorn in his usual matter-of-fact voice.

Orik scowled but made no reply.

"I have some firewood." Said Murtagh. "You can borrow some if you like. Now I suggest you get...er, inside, before you freeze to death. I'll take first watch."

A while later, Orik and Arya were sitting fairly comfortably next to a small fire waiting for a vegetable stew Arya had hastily made out of their supplies to cook. Firnen's wing stretched above them like an emerald tent, and Arya had cast a spell to dry the muddy ground beneath them, so they were reasonably comfortable.

How Murtagh was coping, Arya didn't know, but she wasn't too concerned for the wellbeing of the red rider. She doubted she could ever get past the pain he had caused Eragon, no matter if they were both trying to save him.

Arya tasted the stew, and reasonably satisfied, said "I think it's about ready now. Pass me your bowl."

Orik obliged, and she filled it up before proceeding to do the same for herself. They ate in silence, both clearly in deep thought. Once they had finished, Arya refilled her own bowl.

"_I suppose I'd better take this to Murtagh." _She said to Firnen. With a mental nod, the dragon lifted his wing so she could leave. She cast a quick spell to keep the rain from falling into the bowl and walked up to Murtagh, who was facing away from her, a troubled expression on his face.

"Seen anything?" she asked him as she handed him the bowl, having to raise her voice to be heard above the wind despite the fact she was standing right next to him.

Murtagh shook his head. "Nothing significant. Thank you." He added, taking the bowl from her. "I'm starving."

Arya nodded and turned to leave, but then stopped herself. There was something she needed to ask Murtagh.

"Why are you here?" she enquired.

Murtagh's expression changed to one of mild surprise. "I would think that would be obvious." He said. "I am here because the storm became too heavy for us to fly through, forcing us to land."

"I mean," said Arya, forcibly reminded of her few conversations with the witch Angela, "Why are you with us? Nobody has seen you for over a year, and now you turn up to help us find Eragon."

"Well," said Murtagh, "that seems to be quite self-explanatory to me. I left, and now I have come back to rescue Eragon."

"Why?" pushed Arya, speaking more quickly now. "Why are you helping us to rescue Eragon? You haven't seemed to care about him much in the past."

Murtagh's nostrils flared, but he kept his face impassive with elven skill. "I always liked Eragon." He said quietly. "I'm not proud of the pain I've caused him."

"I don't think I can believe that." Said Arya, hearing the anger rising in her voice.

"Oh, I think you can." Said Murtagh, a hint of a smile now forming inexplicably on his lips. "I think you understand."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Arya.

"I mean that you know exactly why I am helping Eragon."

"No, I do not. Your motives are a complete mystery to me." Said Arya, her voice now hard as iron.

"Very well then." Said Murtagh, his smile now even more pronounced. "I'm helping Eragon because I know that he would help me if our roles were reversed, no matter what I've done to him. That's why you love him, isn't it?"

A torrent of emotions rushed through Arya's mind, filling her with shock. What had he just said?

"What are you talking about?" she said, really shouting now.

"Why I'm helping Eragon." Said Murtagh, sounding and looking slightly confused. "Really, you did bring up the topic."

"You know what I mean!" she yelled.

Murtagh's smile returned, apparently having grown in its absence. "Yes." He said, sounding very amused. "Yes, I suppose I do. Tell me then, _Arya, _what is your relationship with my brother?" switching to the ancient language for the last part of the sentence.

Arya was consumed for a moment with outright fury that Murtagh had referred to Eragon as his _brother, _then realized that she hadn't yet answered and quickly said. "We're friends." _Which is the truth_. Thought Arya. _Well, it used to be._

Murtagh smiled even more broadly. "And your feelings for him?"

"My feelings for Eragon go no further than friendship." Said Arya. It took her several seconds to realize Murtagh was still waiting for an answer-The words hadn't come out.

A triumphant expression came onto Murtagh's features. Arya knew why. She had seen people try to lie in the ancient language during her time with the Varden; how their mouths would move but no sound would come out. She felt her face burning and was extremely glad for the lack of light.

"Yes," said Murtagh, "That's what I thought. Now, I suggest you go and get some sleep. I'm not going to stay out here all night, and though I hate to admit it, our dwarf friend's eyes are hardly ideal for watch, so I think he's free of that duty."

"_You have to admit, Arya," _said Firnen as she came striding back towards him, her face still hot, _"he is very perceptive, for a two-legs."_

"Arya!"

Arya sat up, rubbing her eyes, having been pulled seconds before from a fairly pleasant dream. Murtagh was crouching in front of her, looking extremely worried.

"Arya, there's something out there."

The last remnants of pleasant restfulness immediately drained from Arya's mind. Instinctively, she stretched out her mind to Firnen, who was also awake and alert.

"_I don't know." _Firnen said, without waiting for her to ask what was going on. _"He woke me up a few seconds before you."_

Murtagh had now turned to Orik and was shaking him, repeating the words "Get up!" in a low, frantic voice.

After a few seconds of this, Orik awoke. "What's going on?" he asked. "Gerrof me!" he added.

Murtagh took a step back and said "I don't know, but something's out there. Come on!"

Firnen stood, opening his wings. Arya grabbed her sword and ran out, quickly taking in her surroundings. At first, she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

She then realized though what Murtagh had meant. The storm, which had been in full swing when she had fallen asleep, had died down to almost nothing. However, it had been replaced by an icy wind, cold enough to turn blood to ice. It gave her a distinct feeling that something evil was lurking out there in the dark. She knew that feeling.

With a sense of increasing dread, she quickly whispered a spell. An orb of light shot from her palm and hovered several feel above their camp, bringing Thorn, Firnen, Orik and Murtagh into sharp relief and illuminating a small area around them.

She did, however, notice nothing in their ring of light save for the grass and foliage being whipped around by the cold wind.

They stood there in silence for several long moments, searching for any sign of movement, peering into the shadows beyond the light Arya had created.

A long, high screech pierced the night. Arya froze-she knew what that meant.

"Ra'zac!" Murtagh yelled. As one, they drew their weapons.

Within a few seconds Arya saw them: four Lethbraka each with a cloaked and hooded Ra'zac riding them. The beasts landed around the perimeter of Arya's circle of light, quickly surrounding them.

The Ra'zac dismounted, drawing their swords while Thorn and Firnen turned and faced opposite directions and took up a fighting stance. Murtagh and Arya did the same, standing by their dragons, ready for battle.

"Don't try to cast a spell on them." Warned Murtagh in a low voice. "Galbatorix cast their wards with the power of the Name; I can't get rid of them."

Arya only had time to nod before two of the Ra'zac came charging straight at her, while their parents went for Firnen, who only had time to let out a blast of emerald fire before they were both upon him.

Since the Ra'zac were together Arya knew she wouldn't be able to kill them separately, so she waited for them to come to her.

When the two creatures were within two metres from her they slowed and began to circle around her in opposite directions, looking for a weakness. She allowed them to do so for a few seconds, then lunged at the one on the left, slashing with Tamerlain. The Ra'zac was caught off guard and barely managed to deflect the blow.

Arya prepared to strike again and press her advantage, but then she realized that was what the Ra'zac wanted her to do-focus her attention on one of them so the other could take her from behind. Making a split-second decision, she spun around to face the other way, holding her arm out straight, just in time to stop the second Ra'zac which had been moving in for the kill. Realizing she now once again had her back turned to one of them, she rolled to the side, catching a glimpse of the first Ra'zac attempting to stab her as she did.

With both Ra'zac now in front of her, she charged, determined to hold them both where they were. Striking as fast as she could, she did the best to keep the two of them on the defensive.

Soon thought she began to notice the effects of the Ra'zac's presence-that overwhelming sensation of fear and dread that she had come to associate with them. The two creatures moved with speed to match her own, and soon enough she found herself on the defensive once more.

Rolling again to the side, Arya caught a glimpse of the battle around her. Murtagh and Orik were fighting the other two Ra'zac, apparently trying to keep them away from Thorn, who had one of the Lethbraka pinned to the ground and was sinking his massive teeth into the beast's neck. Quickly, she stole a glance at Firnen, who was trying to shake off two more of the Lethbraka.

Arya was now finding it increasingly more difficult to fend off the Ra'zac's attacks and received several minor wounds. In an attempt to surprise them, she sprung off the ground as hard as she could, performing a somersault over their heads and slashing downwards as she did. To her immense satisfaction she managed to give one of them a deep cut across the shoulder, causing them to let out a scream of agony.

Landing lightly on her feet, Arya followed through with a horizontal slash, slicing open the creature's abdomen. With another scream it fell to its knees, but was saved by the second one who swung at Arya before she could finish it's comrade off.

Forgetting about the injured Ra'zac for the moment, Arya began to press the second one back, able to stay on the offensive now that she only had to worry about. Having pushed it back several meters, Arya jumped backwards and spun around, taking the wounded Ra'zac's head clean off.

Enraged, the second Ra'zac came at her with even greater ferocity than before, it's sword moving so quickly it was little more than a dark blur. Arya switched to a defensive stance, waiting for an opening, but the Ra'zac left no room for her to counterattack.

She could feel increasingly powerful spikes of pain from Firnen and she could tell he was starting to tire. One particularly deep gash he received from the Lethbraka's claws made her cry out in pain. The sense of dread that the Ra'zac bought was growing stronger and stronger; consuming her thoughts. As it did Arya noticed her reactions slowing; giving the Ra'zac more room to attack. It was pressing her back...she was so cold...

She could feel her connection with Firnen getting weaker as the evil sensation became stronger. She knew he was trying to reinforce her mind, but the two Lethbraka were keeping him too busy to offer her much help.

A mind came into contact with hers and recognising it immediately as Thorn's she allowed him access.

"_Duck!" _He yelled. Arya immediately complied, and a fraction of a second later she saw a massive red tail hit the Ra'zac squarely in the chest. The beast flew several metres through the air before landing hard on its back. Without pausing Arya sprang up, sprinted over to her enemy and plunged her sword through its chest.

Turning around, Arya quickly took in the situation. Murtagh and Orik appeared to have killed one Ra'zac and were now fighting together against the final one, while the Lethbraka Thorn had pinned down earlier was now lying motionless in a pool of blood.

Meanwhile, Firnen remained in combat with two Lethrbaka and appeared to be losing badly. To prove the point, the largest spike of pain yet came from his mind, causing Arya to let out another yell of pain.

Just as she was about to run in and help though, Thorn charged in, roaring with fury. Grabbing one of the Lethrbaka by the neck, he reared up onto his tree-trunk like hind legs and threw it bodily from the other dragon.

The beast quickly recovered, but as it was about the return to the fray Thorn opened his massive jaws and let out a scorching jet of ruby flame, so intense that Arya could feel its heat from where she was standing several metres away. The gout of fire completely encircled the Lethrbaka so that its form was barely visible.

Arya watched in awe as the massive dragon unleashed his full might on the creature, lighting up the whole area with the tremendous ruby glow. After several seconds the beast fell to the ground, its skin black and charred, and Arya knew it was dead.

Turning back to her own dragon, she saw that he had managed to throw off the second Lethbraka and was now hovering several metres above it. The Lethbraka crouched, ready to jump up at him, but before it could Firnen bathed it in emerald flame. Before the creature could recover from the pain of its new burns Firnen dived back onto it, plunging his claws deep into its flanks and sinking his teeth into its neck. With a crash, the Lethrbaka fell to the ground, struggling wildly to throw the emerald dragon off.

After several seconds it succeeded, but before it could press the attack Thorn came crashing into it, bowling it over and pinning it down to the ground. Firnen rushed back in to join him, and within seconds they were quite literally ripping the screaming Lethrbaka to pieces.

She turned back to Murtagh and Orik just in time to see Za'roc cut their opponent from shoulder to hip, shortly followed by Volund, which caught it hard in the side of the chest and finally a second strike from Za'roc, straight through the heart. Arya was quite sure that the Ra'zac was dead before it hit the ground.

Orik let out an exhilarated laugh. "And let that be a lesson to you!" he yelled to the dead Ra'zac.

Arya saw Murtagh turn to his dragon, and Arya quickly did the same. Within a few more seconds it was all over; the Lethbraka let out a final screech before having a large part of its neck torn out by Thorn. They all watched its lifeless body for several moments, stunned.

Orik was the first to break the silence, letting out another triumphant laugh. "We won!" he shouted.

Murtagh grinned. "So much for them." He said.

"_Are you alright, Firnen?" _asked Arya.

"_Of course I am!" _he said. _"It'll take more than a few of those ugly beasts to kill me!"_

Arya smiled, but began to approach her dragon all the same, preparing to heal him. The physical pain of his wounds had been bad, but seeing them up close was always far worse for Arya. She gasped audibly when she saw a particularly deep gash to his side and immediately set about healing it, while Murtagh was doing the same for Thorn.

She was interrupted, however, by a powerful blast of icy wind, which almost knocked her off her feet. At the same time there was a boom of threatening thunder so loud Arya was sure it had to be right over their heads.

It was like what happened when the Ra'zac were approaching, only far worse. Murtagh seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and held his sword out, ready for battle. Orik hefted his hammer.

Arya saw movement out of the corner of her eye and spun around to face it; seeing this Murtagh and Orik did the same.

At first, she thought it had been nothing-a trick of the pale werelight that still hovered above them. Then she realized what she had seen, and gasped in surprise.

The darkness in front of her seemed to be thickening; as if a miniature storm cloud was forming in front of her eyes. But the shadows continued to contract-the thing in front of her growing darker and darker until the blackness looked almost solid.

As this happened, Arya began to see flickers of flame in the thing's midst, as if the shadows themselves were on fire.

As she watched, the darkness morphed until it was humanoid in shape, with a face made of fire. The creature, whatever it was, now looked very much like a human or elf or dwarf or urgal though it must have been over 10 feet tall: a solid form, cloaked in darkness and wreathed in flame. It was exactly like the man she had seen in her dream. Despite herself, Arya gulped.

"What do we have here?" Arya gasped when she heard his voice. It was terrible and powerful like the storm he'd materialized from and icy cold like the wind he was causing. It echoed strangely even though they were standing out in the open, which seemed to add to the sense of dreadful power the voice held.

"Who is so bold to kill my pets? Ah! Two Dragons, a rider, a dwarf and a half breed! An unlikely company if I ever did see one." He laughed out loud.

"Who—_what _are you?" asked Orik, a threatening note to his voice.

The wraith laughed again; something that seemed profoundly wrong for him to do.

"I am something beyond your comprehension, little creature." Said the wraith.

"That I can believe." Said Murtagh. "And what is it that you want?"

The thing beyond Orik's comprehension smiled. "I simply wish to rid myself of some _thorns _that have been in my side for far too long. The master would prefer you reached your destination; he seems to think you would be of use. Still, he hasn't seen quite how pathetic you are."

At this, Thorn roared and loosed a torrent of flame at the wraith. Arya was certain that he had no chance against Thorn's inferno and that he would be burned into nothingness. However, all that seemed to happen was the man absorbed the flames and they became a part of whatever he was made of.

The wraith rolled the twin orbs of fire that must have been his eyes. "I suppose I was growing tired of our little conversations as well, dragon. You are far too feeble for my presence."

Arya watched in horror as the wraith raised his hand. A bolt of fiery dark energy shot from his palm and hit Thorn, sending him flying at least twenty metres through the air before landing on his side with an almighty crash.

Murtagh roared in fury, and holding Za'roc aloft he charged the wraith. Orik, for once, seemed to be in agreement with him, and ran after him, yelling a dwarven battle cry.

"No!" yelled Arya. She knew for certain that they didn't stand a chance against whatever it was. But they didn't listen.

To Arya's amazement, the wraith did nothing to stop them from drawing closer, but simply stood there with an amused smile on his face. Twenty metres...ten metres...

Roaring like a madman, Murtagh closed the remaining distance between them with a great leap and slashed the wraith right across the waist.

For a second, they all stood there in silence, which was broken the wraith's laugh. Za'roc had passed through him as if he wasn't even there: his body parting like smoke and filling the void as soon as the sword had passed through.

The wraith held out his right hand, and immediately a gigantic flaming mace materialized in it, apparently formed of the same darkness that he was.

Hefting it over his shoulder, he swung it at Murtagh. The mace hit the rider square in the chest and sent him flying. He landed on his back, clearly unconscious or dead, with his the clothes covering his chest smoking.

The wraith leaped forward, swinging his mace at the dwarf who stood several metres in front of him. Orik yelled and bought his mace up to deflect the blow, and to Arya's amazement Volund met the wraith's mace, glowing with a brilliant golden light.

The wraith frowned. "That weapon is wasted on you, little king." He said. With a flick of his wrist he sent Orik flying.

"_Now he dies!" _yelled Firnen.

"_No!" _she yelled. _"Don't!" _

She could tell Firnen had half a mind to attack anyway, but he didn't approach the wraith.

It now turned his gaze on Arya and Firnen, his very eyes full of incomprehensible malice.

"Hah! And what do we have here? The mighty daughter of Evandar! I must say, I expected a little more. Let's see if your dragon is as weak as your little friend's, shall we?" A bolt of dark energy shot from his hand.

"No!" yelled Arya. Desparately, she raised her hand, her only thought the safety of her dragon.

A shield of emerald light appeared between the bolt and her dragon a fraction of a second before it hit. The dark energy hit it and it shattered like glass, but Firnen remained unharmed.

A terrible smile spread across the wraith's face. "Oh, little baby Arya knows how to play!" he said, his voice full of evil glee. "This will be entertaining!"

Arya raised her palm and yelled "Brisingr!" An orb of emerald fire shot from her hand and hit the wraith square in the chest, but again, he only seemed to absorb the energy.

"Perhaps not." He said, still smiling. "Well, if that is the best you can do, I might as well finish it now!"

Lifting his huge mace high above his head, he slammed it against the ground with a sound like a clap of thunder, sending a shockwave of darkness racing out in front of him. The force of the blast knocked Arya off her feet.

The wraith strode forwards until he stood towering above her, only a few metres away. Firnen roared and blasted fire at him but it had no effect whatsoever.

The wraith raised his hand so that his palm was pointed directly at her heart, his smile now even bigger than ever. "_This _is the daughter of Evandar? My, my...you must take after your mother. Farewell!"

It was at that moment that Arya knew her life was over. This wraith was far too strong for her-she had no chance of defeating him. Her friends were most likely already dead or dying. Now she was going to die, and with her so would her dragon and the man she was trying to save.

All she knew was that she couldn't let this happen. She was not at all afraid of death, but she couldn't allow the same thing to happen to the ones she cared about most. No, they couldn't die here, they had to get to Farthen Dur and save Eragon...

A bolt of dark energy shot from the wraith's hand straight at Arya's heart, while in the same instant there was a blinding flash of fiery light and a deafening _bang!_ She felt a lurching sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the world in front of her seemed to contract as she was lifted off her feet and jerked forwards into nothingness.

A split second later her feet hit the ground and she collapsed onto a hard stone floor.

**Over 1000 words longer than chapter 4-yeah, baby! That fight scene took me ages! Anyway, if you're wondering what the "wraith" looked like, it's basically a balrog but shorter and more human shaped. **


	10. Unexpected Arrivals

**Hey guys! HAPPY FRIDAY! **

**Er, is it still Friday for you guys in the US? Gah, don't bother. I don't want to know. **

**Well, as promised, I have another chapter! And so does Tamerlain with his story Half Breed, so remember to read it along with Switching Lanes by Elemental Dragon Slayer! Damn, that's getting annoying**

**Oh, and speaking of the circle of circles, we are now a COMMUNITY! Check us out on...fanfiction. Er, where else did you think we'd be? **

**And, on another note, I am afraid to say that I am deleting Life, Alagesia and Everything. I'm not sure whether this will be big news to anyone because as far as I know very few people have ever read it, but if someone else did happen to, they would find lots of information that is now obselete. You see, that thing was written a long time ago and since then lots of things have changed with this story, which basically means I have decided that it is too hard to define everything and I'm just going to have to make up the finer points as I go along/leave them to the reader's imagination. **

**And, finally, thanks to everyone who has reveiwed this story! You guys really keep me writing-without you this thing wouldn't exist and I would have missed out on lost of fun writing it!**

**So, without further ado... **

"King Orik!"

Arya opened her eyes slowly, hear ears ringing. Wondering if for some reason they were not functioning properly, she touched her hand to the side of her head and found it covered in blood.

"Waise Haeli." She said groggily, feeling a familiarly maddening itch creep across the right side of her head as the wound repaired itself. Blinking in an attempt to clear her blurry vision, she took in her surroundings.

She was in a large stone hall well lit by torchlight and full of short, stocky people. She was in a room filled with dwarves, all of whom looked very surprised to see her.

Arya's brow creased. Though her head didn't seem to be working very well at the moment, she was quite sure that their journey to Tronjheim was still underway and they certainly weren't anywhere near the dwarven kingdom. So where was she?

Then she remembered-she had been fighting that wraith and there had been some sort of flash of light, and now she was here-as if she had been transported there the same way she had transported Saphira's egg to Eragon. She could not, however, remember ever thinking to use that spell, and if she had she was sure she wouldn't have come out in one piece. Yet she was there. But if that was so, where was-

"_Firnen!"_ she yelled mentally, immediately in a state of panic. How could she have forgotten? If she was really here in a dwarf-filled room, then there was clearly a lot of distance between her and Firnen, whom was where she had been several seconds before.

Arya stood up more quickly than she would have thought possible, looking frantically around. What she saw amazed her greatly: lying in a circle around her were Firnen, Murtagh, Thorn and Orik, all of them apparently unconscious. Once she got over the surprise of them being there, it hit her that Murtagh had recently made severe contact with an ethereal yet apparently quite effective mace, Thorn had been blasted with a bolt of dark energy and Orik had sent flying several metres into the air.

"_Arya, what-where are we?" _Arya felt a flood of relief as Firnen's mind touched hers, having previously been unconscious and unnoticeable.

"_I don't know; there was a flash, and..."_

Arya watched with concern as her Dragon stirred and began slowly to stand. She started to approach him, but her way was immediately blocked by several sword-bearing dwarves.

"Who are you, and what have you done to our king?" said the leader.

"Out of my way." Replied Arya angrily, grasping the hilt of her sword. The dwarves didn't budge.

"Speak, elf!" he yelled.

Another dwarf ran over to a lifeless Murtagh and gasped. "The red rider! It's the murderer and his dragon!"

"Seize her!" yelled another dwarf, and the guards moved in for Arya. Firnen roared.

Quick as a flash, Arya drew her sword. The dwarven guards did the same and tried to rush her, but she easily disarmed them, sending their swords spinning across the floor. They scrambled away as Firnen approached them, his jaws snapping.

Hearing the commotion, several more guards ran into the room. Their eyes darted between Orik and Murtagh on the floor, Arya and Firnen and the disarmed soldiers. With an angry roar, they drew their weapons and charged.

Firnen leaped up and placed himself between the dwarves and his rider. Rearing up onto his hind legs, he opened his wings to their full extent and let out a terrifying roar.

The dwarves came abruptly to a halt-pointing their weapons at the dragon and jabbing them at him threateningly but clearly at an agreement not to approach him any further.

Arya watched as more and more dwarven guards came streaming into the room, rushing to the aid of their comrades so they formed a half circle around Firnen, who was turning his neck and doing his best to make sure all of them were aware that it would not be wise to approach.

Arya felt reasonably confident that together Firnen and she could handle any number of dwarves, but knew that if it were to come to a fight blood was bound to be shed, and she couldn't see how that could end well, especially since they had no idea where they were or how to get out.

"We are friends, we mean you no harm!" Arya yelled in the ancient language, quite forgetting how that had gone for Murtagh in similar circumstances a day before. Apparently deducing that Arya was attempting to cast a spell, the dwarves charged.

"_Don't kill them!" _Arya yelled to Firnen. She could tell that he had half a mind to argue, but when the dwarves drew close he used his wings to sweep them aside. Arya felt a small spike of pain from him as one of the dwarf's spears pierced his wing. She was about to take a swing at the holder when Firnen rammed his head into the dwarf's side, sending him flying across the room.

A dwarf carrying a bow attempted to shoot an arrow at Firnen, but Arya quickly stopped it with a spell, making a mental note to place new wards upon him before they continued their journey any further. With another quick spell she caused the dwarf's bow to burst into flames, and with a yell of surprise he dropped it.

The dwarves who had not been knocked to the ground by Firnen's assault backed up hastily, yelling in dwarvish assumedly to attract the attention of more guards.

Knowing that they were running out of options, Arya tried desperately to extend her mind to Orik. It hadn't seemed like the wraith had hurt him as much as he had hurt Murtagh, and maybe she could bring him around...

"_Orik, wake up!" _Arya yelled to him, but he seemed to be out cold. Arya bought her mind in closer to his, mentally calling him all the while. He did indeed seem to be unconscious.

Meanwhile, the doorway was getting its share of use from both unarmed dwarves rushing to make an exit and armed ones coming to assist their comrades. If many more of them entered, Arya didn't think they could defend themselves without taking any lives...

"_Orik!" _Arya yelled yet more frantically. When there was no response, she resorted to forcefully ramming her mind into his in an attempt to make it stir.

Slowly, she began to feel him coming into wakefulness. Within a few seconds, she saw him begin to move.

Firnen rammed into several more dwarves with him head and they went down with particularly loud yells. Apparently finally sensing the commotion, Orik leaped to his feet. Seeing immediately that they were under attack, the dwarf grabbed Volund, which had been lying by his side, and ran at them with a roaring cry.

"I'll teach you not to mess with this dwarf again, you curs!" he yelled.

"Sire, what?-" said one stunned dwarf, who paid for his confusion when his shield was reduced to splinters a second later by Orik's hammer. It was when the dwarf fell to his knees with his arm hanging limply besides him yelling dwarvish profanities that Orik seemed to realize that something was amiss.

"Wait, what, who, STOP!" he yelled.

The other dwarves turned to face him with looks of great confusion on their faces.

"Stop fighting, they're friends!" Orik yelled, (or so Arya thought from what she could remember of dwarvish,) apparently now understanding what had happened. He glanced back at Murtagh and Thorn, who were lying unmoving behind them. "All of them." He said after a moment's hesitation.

After several seconds of stunned silence, the dwarven guards lowered their weapons.

"_We're in Tronjheim."_ Said an unfamiliar voice in her mind. It took her a second to realize it was Orik. _"In the name of the gods, how did you bring us here?" _

"_I didn't." _Replied Arya. _"At least, I don't think I did..." _She had been thinking about getting to Tronjheim when that flash had occurred. What if she had once again inadvertently used that strange kind of magic?

"Wait-the elf's bewitching the king!" yelled one of the dwarves, clearly noticing the look of extreme concentration on Orik's face that any magician would know meant he was having a mental conversation. With angry exclamations, all of the dwarven guards pointed their weapons at Arya.

"No!" yelled Orik out loud, immediately breaking the mental contact and turning to the guards. "We were talking."

Slowly and hesitantly, the guards once again lowered their weapons.

A relatively tall dwarf wearing a trimmed beard entered the room, flanked by two more guards, each wielding a sword-staff of the same kind Arya had saw the witch Angela using during the war. That one she knew: Gannel.

"King Orik, what is-" his eyes moved to the red dragon and his rider lying on the floor and his face filled with hatred and rage. "What happened?"

"The red rider and his dragon are friends-or so I think, Gannel." Said Orik. "The elf and her dr—and _Firnen_ are as well. We were fighting against..something, and both the red rider, Thorn and I were incapacitated, and the next thing I remember is waking up here."

As Orik said this, Arya began to check Firnen for injuries, healing them as she went. However, after a few seconds he stopped her.

"_Murtagh and Thorn." _He reminded her, and furious at herself for forgetting their plight, she turned and began to stride quickly towards them. Several of the guards made as if to stop her but Orik raised his hand and they immediately stopped. All eyes turned to Arya as she knelt beside the still form of Murtagh.

The Fiery mace had stuck him in the chest, and the clothes covering it were still smouldering. Arya quickly remedied that with a spell, but soon realized with a sinking feeling that this was the least of Murtagh's problems. If the impact of that mace had sent him flying so far, it must have completely crushed his rib cage.

Sure enough, the red rider was showing no sign of life, and if he was breathing she couldn't tell. With another muttered spell Arya split the fabric of the top of his tunic, feeling distinctly worried about what she would find underneath. Despite herself, she knew that a part of her liked Murtagh, and perhaps even understood him a little.

She did not however find what she was expecting. Underneath his tunic was some kind of armour-a multicoloured scale tunic.

With a rush of understanding, Arya realized what the armour was. "Dragon scale!" she yelled in astonishment.

Orik, who had apparently been standing behind her, let out a small gasp of wonder. "It seems our friend Murtagh is full of surprises." He said, a note of grudging awe in his voice.

Murtagh's armour was comprised of many bright scales, apparently from several different dragons. There was a clear depression in the scales where the mace had made contact, but they seemed largely undamaged. The weight armour might also explain the fact that she couldn't see him breathing-maybe he was still alive.

Though she couldn't help but feel slightly relieved at this, that fleeting emotion quickly turned to anger. It was nothing, however, compared to Firnen's.

"_He wears armour made of the skin of my race!" _he said furiously. _"How he could, how he DARES?"_ seemingly unable to contain himself, he let out a echoing roar causing the dwarves in the room to spin to face him, clearly terrified.

Firnen moved over to Murtagh, apparently desiring to see the armour with his own eyes. Arya's vision confirmed, he growled threateningly at Murtagh's still form, which predictably made no response.

"_It's terrible!" _Arya agreed. _"So much for him regretting what he did under Galbatorix."_

Several of the dwarves were now crowding around them, staring in wonder at Murtagh's armour as if it were made from precious gems. Arya had never felt more angrily towards the dwarf's love of material wealth in her life, and it took all of her self control to remain silent.

"Well, I can certainly see why he kept _that _hidden!"

Arya almost jumped in surprise. How could _she_ be here? However, when she spun around to face the person who had spoken her suspicions were, amazingly, confirmed. Standing in front of her was the witch Angela.

"You!" blurted Arya, taken completely surprised.

"What the?" added Orik, apparently equally amazed.

"What are you doing here?" finished Arya, goggling at the herbalist's amused face.

"Well," said Angela brightly, "that's not generally considered a polite greeting. Still, I suppose I'm not one to talk, am I? To answer your question, I am _standing _here, or if you mean the question in the way all those other dwarves did, then I suppose the answer you are looking for is that I am here because I like to be where interesting things are happening."

And without another word she knelt down by Murtagh. Seeing the large depression in the centre of his chest, she frowned and turned back to Orik and Arya.

"Ah, I suppose that means you must have met our old friend Galbatorix then?" she said ruefully.

"Galbatorix—what?" said Arya, now even more confused.

"Ah, I see." Replied Angela as jovially as ever, apparently completely satisfied with this answer. "Well, that armour of his seems to have stopped some of it, but he's going to need healing, and soon. Orik, would you be so kind as to arrange for him to be bought down to my quarters?"

Without waiting for a stunned Orik to make any reply, she strode over to Thorn, examining him. Though Arya couldn't see anything on him that would suggest that the dragon wasn't merely sleeping, Angela's face darkened.

"Oh dear, this doesn't look good." She said gravely. "I'm going to have to at least try to stabilize his condition first. Orik, were you listening to me?" she said, turning to him with her hands on her hips.

Orik opened him mouth, but before he could say anything, Angela cut him off.

"Orik, this rider and his dragon are _dying, _and while I'm sure you have your reasons for being less than willing to assist them I am quite sure you are going to need them in the near future,so I would prefer it if questions were asked later! Now, will I have to get this man to my quarters by myself?"

"Now listen here, you!" said Gannel, the crowd parting as he approached them. "You have no right to be ordering the king around!"

"My dear Gannel, there is a time and a place for formalities and this is neither. Oh, very well. _King, _Orik, please arrange for this man's transport to my quarters. Now."

Both Orik and Gannel's nostrils flared, but after a few moments Orik turned around to the crowd of guards. "Sorin, Unroth, get a stretcher and take the red rider to the Herbalist's quarters. I assume you know where they are?"

The two dwarves nodded and strode swiftly off.

"The rest of you, get out of here. Go on, shoo!" said Angela. The dwarves didn't budge.

"Really, do you have to wait for your king's permission to do _everything?" _

Orik looked extremely agitated but nodded stiffly. At once, the guards left, leaving Arya, Firnen, Angela, Orik and Gannel alone with the still forms of the red dragon and rider.

Kneeling once more by Murtagh, Angela pointed at his armour and the straps instantly unfastened.

"Help me get this off him, will you Arya?" asked Angela, completely ignoring the incredulous look on Arya's face. She was sure Angela hadn't moved her lips; why would she cast a spell without speaking for such a trivial task?

The two of them were able to quickly free Murtagh of his dragon scale tunic, finding another layer of clothing underneath. Angela had been right-the armour had stopped most of the damage to his chest, but Arya assumed that he hadn't been hit my any ordinary mace.

Angela smiled. "I can see why he chose dragon scale armour." She said, and Firnen growled. Completely unfazed, she continued. "Incredibly light and strong, and it allows almost complete freedom of movement; nobody would ever suspect he was wearing it.

"Wise one," said Arya uncertainly, "The thing that injured Murtagh and Thorn...it was some kind of wraith. The mace-"

"I'll bet you were surprised when it appeared out of thin air, weren't you?" said Angela with a knowing smile, leaving Arya completely dumbfounded.

With Murtagh now free of his armour, Angela stood and turned her attention once more to Thorn.

"I'm not sure what it—he—did to him." Arya said. "There was some kind of bolt of dark energy..."

"Yes, I know." Said Angela. "I am sure that you have many questions, but they will have to wait until I am finished with these two. Orik, I am quite sure you and Arya will be needing rest after your ordeal. I am afraid there is nothing more for you to see here, and you will get nothing out of me until I am finished. Don't look at me like that, I thought we had established you're going to need their help to find Eragon? I trust you will be able to arrange quarters for Arya? Good. Well then, I must ask you all to leave. Yes, you as well Gannel. I expect I shall see you soon."

And after several moments of stunned waiting, the three of them grudgingly turned to leave.

Several hours later Arya found herself in a huge room comprised entirely of black stone. Whether it was a hall or a cavern she couldn't say, for a strange sort of mist or fog swirled around her, making the wall of the building hard to see.

Ahead of her stood a spiky, angled throne made of the same black rock that comprised the rest of the hall. There was little extraordinary about it except that it was far too big for a human or elf or even a kull to sit upon without looking quite small and out of place.

The throne however did have an occupant-and he was another wraith, just like the one she had been fighting hours before. She took a look at him and gasped. It was _him-_the one who she had seen in her previous nightmares, the one who planned to meet her in Tronjheim. And on his face was a look of utmost fury.

"I am disappointed." He said in a voice of forced calm that did not at all match the expression of pure rage which adorned his features.

Arya stood completely still, trying her best not to make a sound. The last time she had stood here, he had discovered her-she knew she couldn't let that happen again.

"Forgive me, my lord." Said another man, who was standing in front of the throne. With another gasp she realized that this _was _the wraith she had been fighting. The idea that he would call the man in front of him _lord _horrified Arya more than anything she could remember. "I merely thought-"

"Thought that you should disobey my orders? COUNTERACT MY PLANS?" roared the man on the throne, his previous control and calmness rapidly slipping away.

"N-no, my lord..." said the other wraith, clearly terrified.

"Then, in the name of the master, what did you _think?"_

"My lord, she is dangerous..."

"So you were afraid that I would be unable to handle her then?" said the first wraith, now sounding even more livid.

"NO! No, my lord, of course not, I merely meant..." said the other wraith, his voice now full of panic. "She...she is...lord, if she reaches Tronjheim, she may be able to acquire help, and who knows what...certain individuals could teach her? She could become a great threat!"

The first wraith's eyes narrowed. "Help from whom?" he said, his voice now soft but full of threat.

"From the order, lord!" said the second wraith.

The first wraith laughed. "The order? The only ones left are Angela and her crackpot master. Or," he said, his voice becoming even softer, "so I was led to believe..."

The second wraith opened his fiery mouth to speak and then closed it again. The first one's expression turned to one of dawning comprehension and then one of terrible fury. "There are more of them, aren't there? AREN'T THERE?" He got to his feet.

The second wraith shook his head quickly, looking absolutely terrified. "No! No, lord, I would never imply-"

"Do you know what I think?" asked the first wraith. "I think you were unable to eliminate the others, and so you decided you had to stop the Half Breed from finding them and bringing them out into the open. So, to make sure I wouldn't discover your little deception, you told your beasts to get rid of her quietly when I sent them to find her. And then, when your little plan failed and you realized she was going to reach Tronjheim, you decided you had to silence her yourself instead."

"My lord, no, I would not dream-"

"GALBATORIX, YOU LYING, CHEATING SCUM!"

The first wraith was on his ethereal feet now. Within a few seconds he traversed the distance between them and grabbed the second wraith by the throat, lifting him into the air.

"No, my lord...mercy..."

In response, the first wraith hurled him across the hall and he fell to the ground in a heap.

The wraith called Galbatorix raised his arms, as if to ward his master off. "Please, my lord...I made a mistake, I know..."

"INDEED YOU DID!" yelled the first wraith, raising his hand.

"No! Please! Please lord, I will serve you faithfully..."

"Oh, yes you will." Said the first wraith, his voice now silky soft. "You will indeed, in a few centuries or so. That is, if your soul has the strength."

A blindingly bright beam of fire shot from the first wraith's palm and Galbatorix was blasted into nothingness before another word could escape his mouth.

Arya woke with a start.


	11. To Follow Truth or Lie

**Hi guys! Not so long time no see, but this one I promise is a new chapter for the Hidden God! Now that's something you haven't seen in a while! It has taken me many, many hours—when I started tonight I had 2000 words, and now I have what I believe is the second longest chapter so far, but I've been completely engrossed in it! Why, you ask? Because EVERY CHAPTER SO FAR HAS LEAD UP TO THIS ONE! That's right, 40,000 words of writing have all been coming to these 6000 ones. Is this the end then, I hear you ask? Has the story finished?**

"**Idiot!" You hear me reply. "This is where the real thing begins!" **

**And with that in mind, read on! **

"_Arya, what happened?"_

"_Another vision..."_

Arya sat bolt upright on her bed, panting as if she had just run several miles.

"_What did you see?" _Asked Firnen tentatively, sounding almost afraid.

"_That creature that attacked us-the wraith- he's Galbatorix!"_

Firnen said nothing for several long moments, apparently too stunned at this proclamation to offer any reply.

"_Partner of my soul..."_ he began, sounding even more worried now, _"perhaps-"_

"_Fa-that man, the one I've been having visions about; he called him Galbatorix. He was his master."_ She added, hating herself for admitting it with words.

"_Arya, think about what you are-" _

"_I know what I heard! How many Galbatorixs do you think there are? Besides, his face...it looked like him!"_

"_Arya," _said Firnen gently, _"please, stop for a moment. You are saying that the creature we just fought was really the dead human Galbatorix, and-"_

"_I know how it sounds, but I'm right!" _said Arya a little hysterically. There was no doubt in her mind- it was him. How it was possible she didn't know, but she was absolutely sure she was right.

"_Arya," _said Firnen after a while, _"I know you are sure, but have you considered the possibility that this was-"_

"_A dream?" _finished Arya, for she had expected him to put forwards this argument. _"No, it wasn't! It was just like my other visions-everything was so clear, and I remember it all, down to the looks on their faces!" _she said, thinking of the look of terrible fury that had adorned the master's face as she said it.

She could tell Firnen was unconvinced. _"Well," _she said, with a hint of aggressiveness, _"When I'm dreaming normally, you'll see it, or at least be aware of it. Were you?"_

"_No." _Said Firnen. _"I was not. I'll assume for the moment that this was one of your 'visions.' What did you see?"_

"_I was standing by that throne, the same one as before. The wraith—Galbatorix—he wasn't supposed to kill us. Those Ra'zac were only supposed to observe us, and he was the one who told them to attack."_

"_Arya-"_

"_The master was really angry. I think he wants me alive, I'm important to him...to his plans, I mean." _She said, feeling sick as she said it. _"Galbatorix wanted me dead because he thought that I would somehow expose some people, an Order or something. He was supposed to kill them but failed, but he told his master he had, and...I know it doesn't make any sense, but I'm not mad, I saw it!"_

"_I don't think you're mad." _Said Firnen gently. _"I think you had a dream."_

"_Okay, here. I'll show you my memories, I can't seem to explain it properly anyway." _She said, lowering her head back down onto her pillow.

"_Well," _he said after a while, _"It seems you were correct. This certainly does not fit the criteria of one of your normal dreams..."_

"_And what would that criteria be?" _asked Arya.

"_Well, for one, it doesn't involve Era—er, never mind." _He finished hastily. _"It does look like your other visions. It looks like, er, whatever normally happens...happened."_

Arya nodded, feeling both satisfied and slightly flustered. _"What time is it?" _asked Arya, rubbing her eyes.

Firnen stood up and strode towards the entrance of their cave, looking towards the gargantuan shaft that provided Tronjheim's light.

"_Normally," _he said, _"I'd call it early morning, but with the limited light source and those infernal clouds it's impossible to tell." _

"_Let's go and see how Murtagh and Thorn are doing." _Said Arya. She mounted Firnen and they flew down into the city of Tronjheim.

Though Arya had spent a lot of time in the magnificent city, she had only rarely been able to appreciate it like this, from above. It looked even more wondrous than before as they circled down towards it, finally coming level with the great structures that stood on the city mountain. She thought that she could perhaps even appreciate the dwarves' love of wealth when she saw it from this angle; precious gems that twinkled in the soft light of the flameless lanterns, set against a backdrop of shining gold and pristine marble. The sight was not Arya's idea of beauty, but she had to admit it was one she'd never forget.

They came to land in the middle of an unnecessarily wide road which led to the citadel itself. She had to ask for directions, but it took her quite a while to find a dwarf who knew the human language -or maybe most simply did not want to talk to her. It was a little disconcerting-she remembered the dwarves had been a little xenophobic when she was staying in Tronjheim during the war, but not like they were now.

"_Ah, yes," _said Firnen, at an admirable attempt at making his mental voice sound like Arya's memories of Gannel, _"we must cease verbal communication with the one called Arya, for her presence somehow displeases Guntera..." _

Arya smirked. _ "I'm not sure that's so far from the truth." _Said Arya. _"I wouldn't be surprised if Gannel has miraculously produced a signed order from above stating that no dwarf is to speak to me; we've never really seen eye-to eye, have we?"_

"_I should think not," _said Firnen, _"I'd be a little concerned if you had shrunk to a height which would make that feasible." _

Angela, it turned out, was staying in a rather isolated area of the city-mountain located in one of the higher terraces. After navigating a maze of corridors and walkways at a jog with Firnen having returned to the dragonhold, she finally came to the chambers that were supposed to be Angela's. Panting slightly despite her impressive elven endurance, she knocked on the door.

After a few seconds it was opened a miniscule amount, leaving a crack through which Arya saw the distinctive golden hair and light blue eyes that meant she was looking at Angela, who then said "Oh, it's you." And opened the door to its full extent.

Arya walked in slowly, first noticing that the room had clearly been designed to accommodate members of races other than dwarves, for it was much more spacious than the average dwarven living room. The place was packed full of the exact kind of odd things that Arya had come to associate with Angela—cauldrons emitting vast quantities of different coloured-steam, baskets full of odd looking mushrooms and several items engraved with runes Arya was sure very few people would be able to read.

Murtagh lay on a bed in the corner with a muddy-looking compound covering the part of his chest the mace had hit.

"I had to tend to Thorn first," said Angela conversationally, "he was on the brink of death by the time I actually got around to healing him, no thanks to you chatterboxes."

Arya said nothing; mostly out of incredulity that _Angela_ was calling _her_ a chatterbox.

"I managed to get him stabilized, but in the meantime our rider here was left in the rather incapable hands of some dwarven healers, and I don't think they tried too hard to help him really." She said. Arya had mixed feelings about this; she wasn't sure if she'd be particularly inclined to go out of her way to help Murtagh, especially after she'd found out he wore a suit of dragonskin armour.

"Still, I think he'll be alright now." Said Angela.

"Where's Thorn?" asked Arya.

"Where did you think? He's exactly where he was the last time you saw him. Not even the dwarven mages have the strength between them to move him, but I'll be he has wards that would stop them if they tried anyway. Not that they will; they're all far too scared to go near him although they pretend it's disgust at him being the notorious Thorn. Anyway, he'll be alright, but he's got a fair bit of resting to do. I'll need to go and check on him soon though, to make sure. That kind of magic is quite unpredictable."

Arya stood there silent for a few moments contemplating what to say. She didn't think anyone would really believe the things that had happened to her lately, but, as always, Angela had surprised her. She seemed to know exactly what that wraith had been. '_That kind of magic.'_ What did that mean? Was it the same kind of magic Arya had been using?

"Angela," she blurted out, and the witch turned her head away from the small cauldron she was stirring with a wooden spoon, "what _kind _of magic is that, exactly?"

Angela smiled a little too knowingly. "Oh, a kind of magic much more ancient and powerful than any of the other forms. A kind that only a few are gifted with."

Arya nodded, taking a few moments to digest that before continuing. She had a shrewd suspicion that Angela wasn't going to give her any more useful information if she could help it, and so she had to glean every possible bit of truth out of what the witch did say.

"Do you...do you know what the...thing—what he was?" she asked. "They thing that attacked us, I mean?"

For the first time, Angela's expression turned truly serious, and Arya got the impression the witch was really giving her full attention to the conversation for the first time. "It was an abomination, Arya. Creatures like him were never meant to exist. They are beyond...normal evil." She said, her voice uncharacteristically serious.

"And what does that mean?" asked Arya, feeling frustrated.

"I meant exactly what I said!" said Angela.

"What you _said_ didn't mean anything! All you've given me are pieces of answers that don't fit together! You know more than you've told anyone, you always do, so why is it you won't give me a straight answer?" yelled Arya, truly angry now.

"Maybe because I'm older and _much _wiser than you and I have very good reasons for withholding information, reasons that you couldn't even begin to understand!"

"Try me!"

"_Arya," _put in Firnen_, "calm down! Control your anger!"_

"_Why should I?" _asked Arya. _"She has information that could help us and she is completely refusing to divulge it, just like she always has!" _

"_Perhaps she does have good reasons for doing so!"_

"_When have you ever thought like that?"_ asked Arya, furious. _"Since when have you taken the side of someone who says they have 'good reasons' for not helping even though they could?"_

"_Since we became involved in something that's clearly much bigger than us!" _replied Firnen. _"We both know something's going on here, and until we understand it, I'm willing to remain ignorant of information that could hurt us!"_

"_I can't believe you're saying that!" _said Arya. _"I thought I knew you better!" _fuming, she cut off the mental conversation.

Angela, she realised, had been patiently watching her the entire time. How long had she been having this mental argument with Firnen?

Unexpectedly, the witch sighed, sounding unusually resigned. "I suppose that dragon of yours was unable to talk some sense into you, then?" she asked. Arya didn't answer.

"Arya, I am sure you know by now you're involved in something more than a search for a dragon rider. Perhaps you are starting to form some suspicions on the matter. It isn't my place to confirm or deny them—don't look at me like that! If you want the truth then you'll be waiting a long time because there's no such thing. However, if you want parts of it, the library might be a good place to start."

"But-"

"I have a patient here, Arya, who requires my attention. I have a feeling he'll be able to tell you a few helpful things, which means you're really depending on him not dying at the moment. That being the case, I advise you allow me to tend to him without any further interruptions. Go to the library. Shoo!"

Still fuming but certain the witch wasn't going to give her anything else except for pain and frustration, Arya decided to do as she'd asked. Soon enough she had reached the colossal dwarven library which housed the collective knowledge of the dwarves which had been accumulated over all the centuries they had lived under a king in Farthen Dur.

On the upside, if there was one place in Alagesia where she could find the information she was looking for, it would be here. On the downside, if it was recorded there in some dusty tome, it would be nearly impossible to find, and distorted into something far removed from the actual truth by the dwarves' beliefs.

"_But don't you remember what Murtagh said?" _said Firnen. _"When we were in Illirea?"_

Arya thought back to what Murtagh has said that day-how he thought there was more truth to some of the dwarves' mythology than they had thought. At the time Arya had found this hard to believe, but now she had seen this wraith and had those dreams...she wasn't so sure any more.

"_It's clear that Murtagh is vital to more than finding and saving Eragon."_ Said Firnen. _"Until he wakes though, I suggest we do as Angela said."_

At this, Arya entered the grand doors of the dwarven library.

The first impression the library gave was one of massive size. The room was gigantic-great hall filled with books and scrolls, all of them neatly ordered and categorized. There was so much there Arya thought it would have taken years to read all of it. Looking for information on the creature that had attacked them here would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"_Perhaps this isn't such a good idea." _Suggested Firnen. _"Murtagh will wake soon enough, and Angela seems to think he'll be able to fill us in."_

"_I still don't trust him." _Said Arya. _"If there's any possibility we can find something relevant here I'll take it, if only so we can compare it to what he says."_

For once, Firnen conceded, apparently in agreeance with her.

Scanning the library, Arya quickly realized that finding relevant material was going to be even harder than she and Firnen had originally thought. While the dwarven language was much easier for her to read than it was to speak, it had gone through a lot of changes since the first of the books in this library had been written and so they were almost completely unable to read much of the material they suspected might be helpful.

After over an hour of searching, Arya found one book that jumped out at her. The front cover was midnight blue, with a golden title that was written, of all things, in the script of the elves.

Intrigued, Arya picked the book up. The title read _Life, Alagesia and Everything. _

Opening it, she found that the entire book was indeed written in elven script, and, unlike many of the books she had looked at so far, it was very neatly written with clear spacing.

"_That," _said Firnen, _"is a first for this library. Please, can we read this one for a while? This book was made for us."_

Smiling despite her growing weariness, Arya took the book to the desk she had been using and opened it to the first page.

_**Dear esteemed reader,**_

_**By the time you read this, I will be in a lot of trouble. You see, in this book I will divulge some rather sensitive information that some very powerful people would rather you not have. Still, in my professional opinion, it is time that the people of Alagesia learn the truth about their world and the reasons why it's in such a bad way. However there is a theory which states that if ever anyone of your kind discovers exactly what the world is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. On the other hand, there is another theory which states this has already happened.**_

"_What the...what do you think this is supposed to be?" asked Arya. _

"_I don't know, probably the ramblings of some dwarven priest about his gods." _Said Firnen.

"_It's written in elvish." _Countered Arya.

"_Well, maybe this is a propaganda book which the dwarves plan on copying on mass to convert your kind to their religion. We're not going to know unless we read on."_

Compelled by curiosity, Arya turned the page.

_**Chapter 1**_

_**If you're reading this, chances are you're an elf and you think this book is the propaganda of some dwarven priest who wants you to worship us. **_

At this, Arya could barely contain her laughter, which was intensified by Firnen's proclamation she'd 'made that bit up.'

_**If that's so, I encourage you to put this book down right away, because I'm going to be writing it based on the assumption you're going to believe what I say, and what I'm saying it going to include information about the beings the dwarves know as gods. **_

"_Okay, this is insane." _Said Arya. _"We don't have any more time to waste with this book." _

"_No!" _said Firnen. _"I agree, whoever wrote this was mad, but it talks about the dwarven gods, doesn't it? This might give us something. Murtagh said something about the dwarven religion connecting to actual history, about the dwarven gods being the Grey Folk or something. This is the first time we've found a book about it we've been able to read!"_

"_It doesn't even seem to be written by a dwarf!" _said Arya. _"It says 'worship us,' which would mean that this book is written by somebody the dwarves worship and want others to worship. It's as if it was written by a god." _

"_Well, do you believe that?" _asked Firnen.

"_Of course not." _Said Arya.

"_Neither do I, but I am open to the possibility this has something to do with what Murtagh was talking about."_

With a sigh, Arya read on. It was, without doubt, the strangest book she had ever read. It did indeed talk about the dwarven gods, but not in the way the dwarves did. The author stated that the 'gods' that the dwarves believed in were actually part of a race of beings that had existed before any others-the Grey Folk.

This intrigued Arya immensely. It was widely known amongst the elves that a race had once existed in Alagesia in the ages when magic had been bound only to thought. The Grey Folk had been the ones who had bound their language-the ancient language-to magic itself, and had shortly afterwards died out.

This book, however, stated that the dwarven gods were (speaking in present, not past tense) part of this race.

"_This is exactly what Murtagh was saying." said Firnen. "Perhaps there is indeed some truth to this. If there used to be another race that inhabited Alagesia before us, and the dwarves had become aware of them..." _

"_They might be considered gods." _Finished Arya. The idea was almost too strange to comprehend, but the book said precisely that.

The book spoke about an evil tyrant, Angvard, and how he had been overthrown by a band of rebels lead by his son Guntera. It then went on to say how Angvard later returned and secretly corrupted many, turning them to evil, and it was this part that caught Arya's attention the most.

"This sounds a _lot _like the dwarven myths." Said Arya sceptically.

"_And also like what Murtagh was saying!" _said Firnen.

_**They became the Giants-twisted by Angvard's evil power,**__**they were abominations, their souls so impure and fragmented that they are beyond normal evil, and all that ominous stuff. As far as they were concerened they had become stronger, but in truth they had become shadows of what they used to be, and the mutilation of their very souls had spilled a large part of their original power. They're not very pleasent to look at. For starters they are, as the name implies, incredibly large. (Speaking, of course, in terms of their true form.) Besides that, they are wraiths made of shadow and fire and would frankly cause the bravest of your elven warriors to soil their nice shiny armour. **_

"_Wraiths made of shadow and fire." _Said Arya. _"I don't believe it."_

"_This is it, it has to be!" _said Firnen. _"And if this was right..." _

"_The rest of the things this book says probably are too." _Said Arya, barely able to believe it.

"_What else is there then?" _asked Firnen. _"Read on, this might answer so many of the questions that are constantly bouncing around in your—er, I mean our heads!" _

"_**When Angvard decided his forces were ready he revealed himself and began an all-out war on the kingdom his son had taken from him. Leading our side were those who had fought Angvard in the rebellion-known to the dwarves as Guntera, Morgothal, Urur and Sindiri (it's more than my life's worth to divulge the real names at this time,) as well as the other members of the Grey Order, (the rebels.) Leading our enemies were his ex-highness Angvard, the one known to the dwarves as Sindri (Guntera's mother,) and Angvard's second in command/the king of the giants..."**_

But Arya never found out the name (dwarven or otherwise,) of the King of the Giants, for at that moment a familiar mind rammed into hers, immediately breaking her concentration.

"_Arya!" _said the newcomer, his voice frantic, _"listen to me, we don't have much time! You are in danger, you need to meet me up in the room as soon as you can! Please, Arya hurry!" _and the mind pulled out as quickly as it had arrived.

For several moments, Arya sat there in complete shock. It made no sense-even less sense than what she had just been reading.

"_Arya-" _said Firnen uncertainly, but she was already on her feet and moving.

"_Arya, it is not possible!" _said Firnen, now sounding quite alarmed. _"Do not-"_

"_I have to see Firnen, I have to!" _said Arya. She couldn't believe it herself, but she had to go.

"_Arya, this is not wise!" _he said. _"Remember your nightmares, or visions or whatever you call them!"_

The mental words made Arya feel horribly sick. The thought that they really meant what she thought they meant was too horrible to even think about, but even so, she had to find out the truth.

"_Arya, we should consult Angela first, perhaps she will know something important about this-about him!"_

But Arya's mind was made up: she was already racing towards the room she knew he meant. Firnen continued to protest, sounding more and more panicked, and Arya knew he was flying right at that moment to intercept her, but she was running at full speed.

"_Arya, please! Consider this before you go! It is not possible that it is him, you know this!" _said Firnen, pleading with her now.

"_I know why you don't want me to go!" _said Arya, letting out a small sob. _"But I have to find out!"_

Firnen was about to argue, but he had no chance-she had already reached the place. Taking several deep breaths that might have lasted hours, she mustered up her courage and opened the door.

**WE NOW INTERRUPT YOUR READING EXPERIENCE TO BRING YOU A QUICK WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR! **

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The room wouldn't have held any special significance to most people-it was one of the hundreds of places that lay under the slopes of Tronjheim, abandoned since the days of the city's greatest glory when most of the dwarven kingdom had been situated in Farthen Dur. It was plain and unadorned, with several unremarkable (by dwarven standards) columns pretending that they were needed to keep the roof up.

She had come here with Faolin when they had first visited the city over 70 years ago—it had been the place their relationship had really started.

And there he stood now, looking profoundly not dead.

"Faolin." She said quietly, unable to take it in.

Said elf grinned, an expression that suited his face. "Arya. It's been a while."

Arya leaned against a column, barely able to breathe out of shock. Faolin's merry expression immediately turned to one of concern. "Arya? What's wrong?"

"it's just..." said Arya weakly. "I...I didn't think I'd ever see you again. You're supposed to be dead!"

Faolin smiled. "I must admit I didn't expect to see you again either, my darling. I know it may be hard to believe, but those Urgal arrows did not kill me. The full story is very long and boring and I haven't the time to give it to you, but the short version is my injuries severely damaged my memory. I wandered around for a while, not knowing who I was or remembering anything that happened before we were attacked. But it has all come back now, Arya, I remember everything. And most of all, I remember you."

He walked up to her, still smiling, and took both of her hands. The instant he did, she felt a massive spike of pain run up her right arm, as if the touch of his hands had electrocuted her. With a sharp gasp she withdrew her hands.

"_What happened?" _roared Firnen.

"_I-I don't know, he..."_

Faolin frowned. "Arya?" he asked, sounding tentative. Then his mouth fell open: he was looking at her right palm. _"Arya, can it be true?"_

She looked at her right palm wonderingly before she realized he was talking about her Gedwey insignia. "Yes." She said quietly. "I am a Shurg'tal."

"_Greetings." _Said Firnen right on cue. _"My name is Firnen. It is an honour to meet you." _Though Arya could tell the dragon didn't think so.

Faolin's expression turned into one of awe. "So it is true." He murmured. "The dragon riders have indeed returned, and the tyrant is defeated, just like they say. He then turned to Arya and replaced his grin. "Arya, this is wonderful! You always wanted to be a rider!"

Arya nodded uncertainly. Her initial feelings of total shock and disbelief were now mixed in with awkwardness. Here stood the man who had been haunting her visions as the lord of the wraiths, looking just as he always had—corporeal and about as far removed from the evil man she had dreamt of as she could imagine. Why was it then that she'd been having those horrible nightmares about him?

Then of course, there was Eragon, the man who she had come to rescue, the man whom she had been so desperate to contact, to see, to be close to. And now, Faolin, her old mate who she'd been certain was dead had simply appeared again, and was clearly fully expecting their relationship to continue right from where they had left off.

"Arya." He said with concern. "What is it that troubles you?"

"It's...it's just the shock...of seeing you here again." She replied.

He nodded with a smile. "Arya, worry not. Everything will be alright. It already is for me." He said softly. "Seeing you again is more wonderful than I ever could have imagined. But, alas, we must talk later my darling. As I told you before, you are in grave danger, and we must leave this place quickly."

"What...what is the danger?" asked Arya.

"Arya," he said gently, "What I am about to tell you may come as a bit of a shock."

"I think...I think I am as shocked as I'll ever get." Said Arya quietly. Faolin grinned.

"Arya, since we last saw each other, I have forgotten many things...and learned many things. Arya, there is something we never even dreamed of at work in the world. You know of the Grey Folk?" Arya nodded.

"We all believed they are nothing but far distant memory now, but we were wrong! Oh, if only I had time to explain everything! Arya, all I have time to tell you now is that the Grey Folk...they explain everything! _They _are the dwarven gods themselves, they are the creators, the spirits...It is all linked, it all makes sense now! And they are not merely memories—Arya, they are still alive!"

Arya's mouth fell agape. _"Just like the book." _Said Firnen incredulously.

"I have discovered that there is a society among them called the Grey Order. Beyond the limits of our reckoning of time they overthrew the rightful king of the Grey Folk and usurped his throne. They are the reason, Arya—Galbatorix, the war between our kind and the dragons...it is all due to their rule! And now, Arya, they are after you!"

Arya was stunned. All this was exactly what she had read in _Life, Alagesia and Everything, _but in reverse.

"Why are they after me?" asked Arya, thinking furiously.

"Arya, you must understand...you are special, Arya! Well, I always knew you were," he said with a laugh, "but more than even I knew! Arya, you are the one—the _only _one who can defeat them!"

If possible, this stunned Arya even more, but he was speaking in the ancient language. "How...how is that? I...I never knew about this until I read-I mean, you told me!" said Arya. Saying this was a gamble, but it worked—because she had never heard his side of the story before.

"Arya, I will explain everything later, but right now we have not the time! They are here, they are here in Tronjheim, and they are coming for you. My darling, we must leave, now!"

Arya stood rooted to the spot, still trying to take it all in. "I have friends here in Tronjheim." She said, to give herself time to think more than anything. "They may be in danger if what you say is true. There is Murtagh and his dragon thorn, and Angela the herbalist. We need to warn them."

Faolin's face assumed an expression of complete horror. "Who?" he asked, sounding truly frightened.

"Murtagh, Thorn and—"

"Angela?" he cut her off. "The witch?"

Arya nodded.

"Barzul Arya, she is one of them! She is with the Grey Order!" he said, his voice full of panic. "But if she's tricked you...we have less time than I thought! Arya, we must hurry!"

Arya's jaw dropped. _Angela, _a part of this Grey Order? _Angela, _an enemy?

"_What do you think?" _she asked Firnen. _"She has withheld a lot of information..."_

"_I do not think Angela is our enemy." _Said Firnen. _"Just because she has not told us what we want to know does not mean she is out to kill us."_

"_But he's speaking in the ancient language!" _said Arya.

"_That proves that he believes what he is saying. Nothing more." _Said Firnen.

"Arya, are you well?" asked Faolin, clearly noticing her conversation with Firnen and mistaking it for a health issue. "Arya, I am sorry, but I must insist that we leave now!"

"_Wait." _Said Firnen, speaking to him for the first time since he had introduced himself.

"_Yes, great one?" _replied Faolin with the same sound of respect and awe in his voice that most of his kind used when speaking to a dragon.

"_I have seen many things, but never a man returned from the dead. Swear you are who you say you are."_

"_Very well." _He said, frowning. "It is, I, Faolin of Ellesmera." He said out loud, and then began walking swiftly towards the door.

"_Swear that you mean Arya no harm." _Firnen persisted.

Faolin's expression was turning annoyed now. _"With all respect, great one, we have not the time for this! I shall confirm everything you wish me to confirm later, but we must move!" _

"Come, Arya, hurry!" he said, addressing her verbally now.

But Arya didn't move. She had never known where Angela stood; everything about her had always seemed uncertain, but the more she thought about it the more she agreed with Firnen—she was not an enemy.

Then she thought of her nightmares, of how though she had been desperate not to believe it, she had been certain that the leader of the wraiths had Faolin's face. And then she thought back to the book—about the last words she'd read. As she did, she realized she had read the name of the King of the Giants—but it had been quite literally jolted out of her mind at the instant she'd read it, the instant in which Faolin had contacted her.

"No." She said, almost whispering.

Faolin's face fell. "What?"

"I don't want to go. I won't."

Faolin looked totally incredulous. "What do you mean, you don't want to?"

"I won't go with you." She said, her voice a little stronger now. And as soon as she said it the uncertainty in her drained away. "I trust Angela. She is not my enemy, Faolin. I know who my real enemy is. I have seen him in my dreams."

In the instant she said it Arya saw it—a flash of fire in Faolin's eyes-so brief she would have missed it if she'd have blinked. He strode up to her, looking extremely worried.

"Look, we can discuss who your real enemy is later, but you have to trust me here, Arya! We need to leave, now!" Arya didn't move.

"What is it, Arya? Do you think _I'm _you're great enemy or something?" he asked, with what was clearly an attempt at humor. "Come on Arya, snap out of it!" he said, Grabbing her arms. "Come on!" he tried to pull her along with him.

Several things happened in the second that followed. There was a flash of brightest blue, and Faolin was thrown from her, landing hard and rolling. As he did though, he began to change. A shockwave of light travelled across his body from his chest, and his very skin burst into sapphire flames. Arya screamed, transfixed with horror as the skin was burned away and beneath it a swirling form of black vapour was uncovered.

He began to grow until he was as slightly taller than the wraith Galbatorix had been, and as the blue fire died it left behind the wraith of her visions, complete with a mantle of fire crowning his head and a look of pure rage on his face as he stood, making the very floor shake as he did so.

"How dare you?" he roared, and Arya gasped. While Galbatorix's voice had been filled with terrible power, this was a hundred times worse: it echoed around the room as if they were standing in some great cavern, and was filled with such power and malice that most would have fallen to their knees at the mere sound of it. If Galbatorix's had made her blood run cold, this turned her blood to ice.

"You filthy half-breed!" he yelled. "You will never, _ever _do that again!"

Arya's knees turned weak. The nightmare was real. Meanwhile, Firnen was desparately trying to reach her, but he could not possibly fit through the corridors that lead there, try as he might.

"Actually, she didn't." Said a bright, matter-of-fact sounding voice behind her. Arya whirled around and almost fell over from sheer shock. Standing in front of her was the most unlikely trio she could possibly imagine: Angela, Oromis, and her father, Evandar.

For a long moment, everyone in the room was completely silent. The three figures did not look the same as Arya remembered them: each one seemed to be made of liquid light, exuding an obvious power and nobility that Arya had never seen before.

"It was a ward." Said Angela, breaking the silence, sounding as bright as ever. "She didn't cast it." Everyone was too stunned by Angela's ability to point out such a technicality at a moment like that to say or do anything for a few seconds. Then, Evandar, for it was him, strode purposely up to Faolin, who was still apparently too shocked to speak.

Coming around a few inches in front of the much taller figure, Evandar stopped.

"Get away from my daughter." He said, and punched the king of the giants in the face.

**Hope it was worth the wait and the depressed rant! So it begins!**


	12. The Grey Order

**Hi guys! Well, finally, almost a week after my wonderful preview, I've done it! The chapter is up! Yaaay! Also, I have just got to 100 reviews—thank you so much to everyone who has given me feedback over the ages! I can't thank all of you who have stuck with me for so long enough—although I'm going to try! As payment, you are about to be rewarded with the vast majority of the secrets I have been hoarding since the very beginning—as well as some clues to the answers of the final—and biggest—ones! **

**Also, remember to read Half Breed and Switching lanes by Elemental and Tam! That is, if they ever do update again. Come on guys, at this rate I'm going to not be coming last in everything soon enough! **

Faolin was sent stumbling across the room by the force of the impact, which generated a resounding _boom _likely heard halfway across the mountain. When he recovered Arya saw his face was, if possible, more furious than it had been before.

"Evandar." He said icily, sneering. "Come to claim your Half-Breed daughter at last, have you? And in front you your little rebel friends, too! That's rather brave of you. I can only imagine the embarrassment you must be feeling. You really should thank me-I'm doing you a favour by making sure your king isn't here to see it."

"Faolin." Said Evandar, the sound his voice absolutely confirming his identity for Arya and making her almost as shocked as his appearance had. "Still as romantic as ever, I see."

Faolin snarled and raised his hand. Arya yelled out to warn her father, but a bolt of fire was already flying at him. "No!" she yelled, but Evandar waved his hand sharply and it veered off course and struck the wall in a fiery explosion.

"Get down!" yelled Angela, and Arya threw herself to the floor as Angela, Oromis and Evandar simultaneously launched jets of searing light at Faolin's heart. The giant blocked with a bolt of dark energy and the beams collided in mid air with a blinding explosion.

Arya looked up to see the jets of lights still connected, locking the four of them in a battle of wills. Slowly but surely, the combined might of Evandar, Angela and Oromis began to overwhelm Faolin, pushing his jet back towards him with what sounded like a deafening roar of wind. For a moment, Arya thought they had him, but the giant flicked his hand up with practiced ease and broke the connection, sending a massive blast wave of energy up at the ceiling. The entire mountain shook and Arya's attempts to stand back up were stopped dead in their tracks. With a rumble like thunder, the ceiling came crashing down.

"You chose the wrong side, Half Breed!" Faolin snarled, and then vanished in a flash of fire.

**Half Breed: A term coined by the story, Half Breed! This annoying advertisement was brought to you by our sponsor, Tamerhelm85, author of HALF BREED! (A Circle of Circles fic!) **

A chunk of rock the size of a person landed right next to Arya. Jumping to her feet, she saw her father rushing to her side.

"Take my arm!" he yelled, and Arya complied. The others all came running up to them and did the same, and they hurtled forwards into nothingness with a flash of silver and a deafening bang.

Before Arya had time to wonder what had happened her feet hit the ground hard and she collapsed onto the floor.

"Arya, are you okay?" said a gentle voice. Looking up she saw her father standing above her, his hand held out. It was a good few seconds before she took it and another few before she managed to speak.

"Father?" she asked, her voice thick with disbelief. "I-is it really you?" But she knew the answer before it left his lips.

"Yes, Arya, it is me." He said. "I suppose I have a bit of explaining to do."

"Where are we?" she asked after a moment, because she didn't know where else to start. In an attempt to answer that question for herself, she took a look around.

They were in a cave of some sort, small and completely unremarkable except for the fact that beyond the entrance there was no ground. She took a few tentative steps to the mouth of the cave, and looking over the edge she gasped in amazement. Tronjheim stood below them, the mountain so far down it looked small and insignificant set amidst green fields no larger than a table.

"How high up are we?" asked Arya in a small voice.

"Around 30,000 feet." Answered Oromis, speaking for the first time.

"No." She said disbelievingly. "That's not possible. Not even a dragon can fly this high. We shouldn't even be able to breathe!"

"Well, that would only apply to you if you were a full elf." Said Evandar tentatively, sounding like he was trying to break the news gently. "And, well...it doesn't, because you aren't." He finished, sounding a lot less confident that she'd ever heard him.

"We're up by the crater at the peak of the mountain." Said Evandar, clearly trying to change the subject before she could enquire as to what he had meant. "It's the first safe place I thought of; we've been here a few times before."

Arya was still trying to take in that a second before they had been standing in a small room in Tronjheim and now they were up further than Firnen could have ever taken her..._Firnen_...In all her surprise she had completely forgotten about her dragon!

"_Firnen!" _she yelled out with her mind, now in a state of considerable panic. How could she have forgotten her own dragon, how could she not have noticed the absence of his mind? _"FIRNEN!"_

"Oh, don't worry about Firnen." Said Oromis, apparently aware of her mental calls. "He's still safe down in Tronjheim, though likely quite as distressed as you are. Your mental connection is broken because there is protective magic placed around this cave; as Evandar said we've used it as a hideout in the past."

"I'll go and get him." said Angela brightly, and with a burst of light and a great whooshing sound she vanished, causing Arya to nearly fall off the edge.

"I suppose you're not used to people doing that, are you?" said Evandar, with an uncertain smile. "We have much to discuss." Arya managed a small nod.

"Well, er... I suppose the first thing you need to know is that I'm not, well, an elf." He said. A long silence followed.

"W...What?" she replied.

"You have, I believe, read that book of Angela's?" asked Oromis. Arya didn't even bother to ask what book he meant, and simply nodded.

"Well, it is rather more accurate than you might have originally assumed." Said Oromis. "I realize that may be hard to believe, as from your point of view, it would probably seem that it had been written by-"

"A crackpot." Finished Evandar. A moment later, there was another whooshing sound.

"What was that, Evandar?" said a familiar voice. Arya turned around to find her dragon, looking extremely disoriented, standing at the entrance of the cave, with Angela by his side.

"_Arya!" _he yelled. _"Angela just told me-"_

But before he could continue Arya ran up and hugged him tightly around the neck. Seeing him gave her a rush of confidence: here was one person, at least, who was familiar to her.

"_It's good to see you again, Firnen." _She said.

"_You too." _He replied, and for a moment they stood there taking comfort in each other's presence, their companionable silence punctuated only by Angela commenting on the "sweetness" of the moment.

"_I'm sorry about Faolin." _Firnen said after a long moment.

It hit her once again like an iron-fisted punch: Faolin, the man who had been her mate for so long, the man who she had once considered to be her one true love, was a wraith; a giant, and the whole purpose of his relationship with her had been to trick her. He was the leader of the armies of evil, a servant of a tyrannical god, and he quite clearly hated her.

"_I'm sorry," _Said Firnen quickly, _"I didn't mean to make it_ worse-"

"_It's okay." _She said, although she certainly didn't feel it.

Before she could stop them she felt hot tears appear in her eyes. She buried her face in Firnen's neck, and thankfully none of them spoke.

"_Arya," _said Firnen gently after a while, _"I know this is difficult, but...I've seen your memories of your time with him. If it makes you feel better, I know that you never felt as strongly for him as you do for Eragon. Not by a long stretch. And I also know that Eragon loves you too, whatever you may think."_

This thought comforted Arya immensely. Though the feelings of shock and hurt remained as strong as ever, she also knew that Firnen was right. Eragon was, after all, the only one she truly loved; she had known that for a while now. She wasn't so certain that he would still return those feelings, but the realization that Faolin had never really been the one for her did help.

She took a few more moments to gather her thoughts, brushed off the tears and turned to face the others. They all bore looks of concern for her on their faces; especially Evandar. She had a sudden rush or recognition: this really was her own father.

On a sudden impulse, she ran up to and threw her arms around him. "Father." She half murmured, half sobbed.

"Arya." He said, with an unmistakable note of joy in his voice. "Oh my daughter, you cannot know how glad I am to see you again."

After a few seconds, she mustered up the courage and asked the question she knew she must. "How is it you're alive?"

At first, he didn't answer. Arya pulled out of the embrace and looked him directly in the eyes, waiting.

"Arya..." he said, "I never died. Like I said...I am not an elf, and neither is Oromis, who I'm sure you also believed to be dead."

"And what am I, then?" asked Angela indignantly.

"We're not quite sure." Replied Evandar with a grin. "Although I refuse to believe you are a member of any race I have encountered."

"I should think not, I'm clearly far superior to all of you underlings!" said Angela. "But for the purpose of making this simple for Arya, perhaps we should assume that I'm a member of the race she would call The Grey Folk."

There was a long silence, during which Arya half expected one of them to yell "Not!" but nobody spoke; nobody even moved.

"And...so are we." Said Evandar quietly. "Oromis and I, that is."

Arya lowered herself into a sitting position shakily, feeling as though her head was spinning too much for her to stay on her feet. It was all too much to take in. First Faolin had been alive again, then it turned out he'd been an evil wraith, then she'd found out that her father, Oromis and Angela (two of whom were supposed to be dead,) were part of a race that she had only ever heard of in legend.

"Your mother," Evandar, apparently deciding that if he lost his momentum he wouldn't be able to start up again, "was an elf. She didn't know though, she didn't know who—what—I am."

"You died." She managed after a while. "Both of you."

"As did our Giant friend Faolin, but that didn't stop him, did it?" said Angela, with the air of somebody explaining that one plus one equalled two.

"Arya," said Oromis gently, "Our race does not follow the same concepts of life and death as the others. You see, the body of an elf, dwarf, urgal or human is a container for the soul. In our case, however, the body is a physical manifestation of the soul. No mortal weapon can destroy us."

"Think about it like this." Said Angela. "When it comes to you mortal folk, and yes, elves are _mortal, _your body is like a glass, containing your soul, which is like the water. If you break the glass, the water spills out and that's the end of it. In our case though, the water and the glass are the same thing. You can disperse the water and sometimes scatter it so much that there's no way you could ever put it all back in one place again, but it's still there."

This did not help Arya's understanding in the slightest.

"_Don't ask me." _Said Firnen as she reached out her mind to him. _"I have no idea."_

"Angela," said Evandar, sounding rather annoyed, "can't you explain something in a way that normal people understand, just once?"

"And I suppose either of you two could do any better?" said Angela, sounding defensive.

"We can't die." Said Oromis immediately. "We are truly immortal, because we can't be killed by time or sword. We can be damaged so that for a time we are unable to regain physical form, and sometimes we can go beyond the point of repair so that we are too weak to ever do so again, but we can never be truly destroyed."

Angela muttered something about "Dumbing it down."

"If you'd actually _read _my book and not gone running off to meet a dead person," said Angela, and Evandar shot her a warning look, "you'd find that it explains it all much more clearly."

"Arya," said Evandar, "you've been using strange magic, haven't you? At times when you've had no other way out?"

Arya nodded. "Yes. The first time was when we fought the Ra'zac. The Lethbraka were about to kill Firnen, but I managed to somehow throw them off him. Then the Ra'zac went for him, and I knocked over a tree to get in their way. Then they went for me, but I blasted them back into the tree and killed them. I went to Firnen, and he was bleeding horribly, and I knew I didn't have the power to save him, but somehow I did." She finished.

Evandar nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Then the next time was when we fought that wraith; Galbatorix. Murtagh, Thorn and Orik were all down and he shot some kind of spell at Firnen. Somehow I managed to stop it." She said; indescribably glad to finally be able to speak about this out loud, in the company of the people who might have the answers. "He knocked me to the ground and he was about to kill me, and all I could think about was that we had to get to Farthen Dur. And then...I somehow bought us all here."

To her amazement and relief, they were all nodding as if they had expected all of this.

"I've been having dreams too." She said. "Visions. I see things happening in other places, and it's all so vivid and real."

Evandar's brow creased. "What did you see?" he asked.

"The first one..." she began, but then stopped herself. The first one was private. Besides, that one must have been just a vivid dream. It might have looked like the others, but it certainly wasn't of things that were really happening; it had been about a past that she wished had happened.

Then she thought about the one with the thrones. That one didn't make any sense at all. No, that couldn't have been a real vision either. The one in which she had been chased through the forest hadn't been real either, even though it was the first time she'd seen Faolin as a giant. The first real vision she'd had was the one with—

"Ra'zac." She said. "I saw Faolin talking to the Ra'zac, talking about me. He said he planned to meet me at Tronjheim, and then, just before I woke up, I think he realized I was there." She said. "Then I saw him again, last night. He was talking with Galbatorix; he was angry because Galbatorix had tried to kill me but he wanted me alive. He killed Galbatorix, or damaged him, or whatever."

Evandar looked at her intensely, and Arya wondered whether he could tell she was holding something back.

"_Perhaps it is best to tell him about your first visions." _Said Firnen.

"_No." _Said Arya. _"He'd think I was crazy." _

"_Apparently we live in a crazy world, Arya. Something tells me that these people would believe more of what we think is crazy than anyone else we've met."_

Arya shook her head mentally. _"No, I won't tell him about those visions. They can't be very important anyway." _

"_How can you know that?" _asked Firnen; Arya ignored him.

"Very well." Said Evandar. "These occurrences are both because of the fact that you are partly a member of our race, being my daughter."

"A Half-Breed." Said Arya, remembering the term Faolin had used; this must be what he meant.

Evandar shook his head and scowled. "Do not use that name for yourself, Arya. "Half-Breed" is an insulting term, and it certainly does not befit you."

Arya frowned suspiciously. She had a hunch that not all of the Grey Folk would think so. "Does everyone agree with that, father?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head. "It matters not. Perhaps some of my race will think less of you for having half-eternal blood, but do not let their opinion bother you."

Oromis nodded in agreeance. "Your father speaks the truth. You are a better person than many pure-bloods whom I have met."

Arya nodded, though a little uneasily. She said nothing; she knew that the people in front of her understood that she would want to know more, and they would either divulge it or not.

"Arya," said Evandar after a considerable pause, "it would take a very long time for me to explain to you everything you'll want to know, but I'm afraid we do not have that time and so we must give you the short version. Oromis, I suppose this is your area of expertise?"

Without any more prompting, Oromis began. "As you may or may not know from what you read of Angela's...book,"

"Encyclopaedia." Corrected Angela, but Oromis ploughed on.

"Before the other races came to be, the world was ruled by the tyrant Angvard." Arya nodded. "Well, he was overthrown in a great rebellion by the Grey Order—the core of which was formed by the people you see in front of you, and our leader, the son of Angvard, whose name is-"

Angela shot him a warning look, too subtle to be noticed by anyone but an elf, or, apparently, Oromis.

"Whose _dwarven _name is Guntera, as well as several others." He finished.

"And his actual name?" asked Arya pointedly, quickly realizing that this piece of information was one she was forbidden to know and so, of course, desperate to know it.

"Is not for us to disclose." Said Angela curtly. "Don't look at me like that, Arya. We can't tell you and that's that."

Arya opened her mouth to retort, but said nothing. There was little point in arguing with Angela.

"Many ages passed in peace. Our world was rebuilt. Guntera ruled as king, and his leadership was wise and just." Continued Oromis. "Eventually though, Angvard's power began to return to him. Unable to challenge his son in open warfare, he began to spread whispers and lies against the new regime. Those who followed them became the giants, the chief of whom you have already met." These last words sent new spikes of pain and shock down Arya's spine.

"Faolin was promised by Angvard the kingship of Alagesia, where the second-born races—the elves, dwarves, urgals and humans—now lived, while Angvard would rule Alalea, our homeland, and have the kingship of the world once more."

Arya could see it in her mind's eye: Faolin, who she imagined had originally appeared as she remembered him, falling to evil, turning into the wraith he was now, promised by his master that he would be a tyrant over Alagesia just as his master would be over the whole world...

"The Giant armies, led by Faolin, fought a great war to take over your land. We defended Alagesia, and the war was so great that it turned the centre of your land into a desert wasteland; what is now known as the Hadarac."

As best as she could, Arya imagined it: a great battle with magic stronger than any heard of by elves, urgals, humans or dwarves: a battle like the one which had destroyed Vrorengard but a hundred times larger. She imagined Faolin, evil and terrible, leading an army of wraiths, against Oromis, Angela, Evandar, and an army of many other nameless and faceless figures, who stood between them and the ancient people of Alagesia...

"That war shaped much of your land. The Hadarac desert was the biggest change it wrought, but there were other things too. What you now know as Helgrind is what remains of the great gateway to Faolin's underground fortress. The place we stand in now, which the dwarves call Farthen Dur, was not always open to the sky: the hollow mountain was originally a prison for Faolin's enemies. The crater is the result of a rather badly staged break in." He said with a rueful grin.

"Badly staged?" asked Angela indignantly.

"Well, it was hardly discreet, was it?" said Oromis.

"Oh, and I suppose you could have come up with a better way?"

"Angela," said Evandar heavily, "you blew up the top of the mountain. There is nobody in the Order who couldn't have come up with a better way."

"Well, excuse me for freeing all those prisoners from the clutches of the giants! Besides, the dwarves seem to like it!"

Oromis sighed. "Anyway," he said, "we defeated Faolin and once again broke Angvard's power. And we thought, perhaps foolishly, that was the end of it."

A sensation of horrible dread began to rise in Arya. She thought she knew what was coming. The Ra'zac, the black clouds...

"Guntera, however, was not so hasty, and every race in Alagesia owes a debt of gratitude to him because of it." Said Oromis. "Unwilling to leave such comparatively defenceless people unguarded, he decided that we should keep a presence in Alagesia. We were not to make ourselves known; our job would be to keep watch, and protect from the shadows. And so we have done, for many aeons."

"Our kind has only intervened when we knew it was absolutely necessary." Said Evandar. "I know this may seem immoral from your point of view. You would be right in thinking that we have the power to solve many of your kind's problems." He sighed heavily. "Arya, what you must understand is that we are not gods, whatever the dwarves may say. We can't know what over-interference would do to your kinds; not even Guntera can predict what changes would be bought about."

"What sort of an excuse is that?" said Arya, feeling angry now. She had so long disputed that there were beings with the power to solve the world's problems, as the dwarves believed. Now she had found that they had been right all along, and that the dwarves' reliance had been in vain. "How can you just stand by with all the dreadful things that happen? The dwarves_ pray _to you! They devote their lives to you, and yet you don't help them!"

Evandar looked pained and tired. "Arya, don't you see?" he pleaded. "If your kinds came to rely on us too heavily, then you would not know how to cope without us! You must learn to solve your own problems, for we can't foresee what might happen! If, for example, we were forced to leave, how would you cope without us if you had come to rely on our power? If we kept the peace, you would fall into anarchy! If we provided food, you would starve! If we ruled, then you would be leaderless!"

"_Arya," _said Firnen, _"do not become too angry. What he is saying makes sense, and they are clearly wise beings." _

But Arya wasn't finished. "And what about Galbatorix?" she said. "He ruled the land for 100 years, just like Angvard did to you! And now it turns out he was one of _your lot _anyway!"

"That," said Oromis, "is a different matter. Please, let me finish. Perhaps then you shall understand a little better." Arya thought about this for a moment, then gave a single, sharp nod.

"As you have pointed out," said Oromis, "The dwarves did eventually become aware of our presence. It is not often we have intervened in your affairs, but it was enough for the dwarves to begin to call us gods. I became known to them as Morgothral; Evandar, Urur and Angela, Sindri."

"And the person whose name I'm not allowed to know was Guntera." Added Arya with a slight note of resentment in her voice.

"You sound like a child." Said Angela drily.

"You've never been one to accept not being told things!" snapped Arya.

"True enough." Said Angela. There was a flash of light and, to Arya's amazement, a pair of needles and a ball of thread appeared in Angela's hands. Without another word, she simply began to knit.

"Anyway..."said Oromis, with the sound of someone trying to diffuse a rapidly deteriorating situation, "It is not just the dwarves we have interfered with. They were the first whose affairs we meddled in, but, as you know, the results were less than ideal. They worshipped us, and wealth and food and other items that we have no need for were taken from the poor to give to us when they should have stayed with the people." Said Oromis.

"But we learned from this. Our other interactions were more discreet. Perhaps the greatest example of this was the war between the elves and the dragons. When we realized that the conflict was bringing both your races to the brink of destruction, we decided we had to do something about it, despite our reservations. So, Guntera , in what was possibly the greatest masquerade in history-"

"Second greatest." corrected Angela, not looking up from her knitting. Evandar smiled ruefully and Oromis tilted his head with a hint of a smile.

"Second greatest, then. Anyway, he was the one who arranged the peace between your kinds—playing the part of the first Eragon, whom the current leader of the order is named for. He manufactured the dragon rider bond himself and, over the course of a few decades, formed the order."

"Admittedly, it was quite clever of him." Said Angela. "In one stroke he bought peace to the elves and dragons and created a group which would keep watch over Alagesia so that we would no longer have to intervene."

Normally, this revelation would have completely astounded Arya. However, it was hardly the biggest surprise of the day, so she simply nodded.

"Still though, we kept watch, even as the riders grew in power and wisdom and the land became a better and better place. As great as the riders had become, if what we most feared happened—if Angvard were to return-they would not stand a chance. And so for aeons, we have walked among the Alagesians, taking the forms of different humans, elves, dwarves or urgals when it needed. There was little we had to do in those days; a tweak here, an adjustment there, and we kept things stable."

"However, our vigil was not in vain. About a hundred years ago, we began to read the signs. A darkness was coming over the land."

Evandar spoke now. "At first we told ourselves that it had to be a mortal evil; it had been, after all, so long. But I think all of us knew what was coming. We could all feel the darkness, Arya, and deep down we all knew it was something beyond anything from your lands."

"Eventually," said Oromis, "our worst fears were confirmed; Faolin had returned. His plans were carefully laid. At first, we assumed Galbatorix was just what all of you mortals thought he was; a wayward rider. By the time we realized what he was, it was too late. The 13 riders whom he turned to his side: they were giants whom had been skulking around for who knows how long, waiting for the return of their lord. It turned out, of course, that his whole purpose in Alagesia had been the first step in his master's plan: get rid of us, quickly and quietly, so that the conquest could go unchallenged."

"We had, admittedly, become a little lax in our watch by then." Said Angela. "Evandar, as you know, was babysitting, and having babies with, the elves. Oromis was with the riders, and I was keeping an eye on everyone else, because I am by far the best. Guntera, meanwhile, was back in Alalea, and we hadn't been in contact with him for quite a while."

"Of course," said Evandar, "that was about when you were born. I...I was so happy. Your mother may have had her faults, Arya, but I fell for her, and since she gave me you, I'll never consider that a bad decision." Arya fought back hot tears as they threatened to leave her eyes.

"Galbatorix had the element of surprise." Said Evandar. "Before we really knew what was happening he was coming for us. As you know, my body was destroyed while I was attempting to aid in the fight. I am...more sorry than I can say that I didn't get a chance to know you until now." Unable to hold them back any longer, Arya let the tears fall. "Me too." Was all she could manage.

"Angela and I soon realized we would have to go into hiding." Said Oromis. "Faolin's pet Gablatorix may have been incompetent, but he did have thirteen giants at his command. There was little we could do but lie low and fight from the shadows, picking them off one by one. We soon found that they, like us, were not revealing themselves for what they were and using their true powers. Why this is, I cannot say, but I guess that it was because Faolin was unwilling to allow the people of Alagesia to perceive his servants as gods, lest they decided they wanted to stay in charge and betray him." He said.

"Then, of course, the unthinkable happened." He continued. "Eragon came along; a helpless, bumbling fool but a hero through and through. Angela and I knew he was the one, so we trained him up, helped him, manipulated to circumstances. He lived up to all our expectations; he destroyed the giant Galbatorix and restored peace. Faolin's plan had been set back by a mere human boy. With the evil gone from the land, Evandar here was soon once again able to regenerate his physical form. All was well."

Arya's initial feeling of pride as Oromis had spoke about Eragon was slowly evaporating. It all made sense: finally, the truth of the matter. But if she was right...

"I think you are starting to understand now." Said Oromis gravely.

Arya nodded. "Eragon...foiled Faolin's plans. And so Faolin-"

"Now wants revenge." Finished Oromis. "I know Eragon. He is the strongest mortal I have ever met; he defeated a giant, after all. But this foe is beyond anything he could ever dream of facing. Faolin is too powerful for him."

"Do you think...he's still alive?" asked Arya in a low voice, hating herself for letting the words leave her mouth.

"Yes." Said Oromis. "Faolin will not be satisfied with merely killing Eragon. The idea that a mortal such as him could foil his plans is truly hateful for him; for he does not comprehend that Eragon has a strength he cannot dream of. He will seek, I think, to make him suffer."

Arya's mouth had gone dry. It was a nightmare. Faolin had Eragon, and was likely subjecting him to tortures a hundred times more terrible than any she had experienced at the hands of Durza.

"Help me." She said. "Please, help me save him. You said it yourself; the world needs the riders. Alagesia needs him."

"Do you really think us so uncompassionate that we would not help him anyway? He is a good man who deserves any help we can render him. Besides, now that Faolin has him, it's our business."

"Thankyou!" yelled Arya, filled with joy. Here, at least, was a chance. The Grey Order, Faolin's great enemy, would help her. Jumping up, she threw her arms around Oromis with a sob of relief.

"Oh, we're not doing this for free." Said Angela matter-of-factly. "We need your help too."

For a long moment, there was complete silence. Then: "What?" asked Arya. "You...need my help?"

Oromis nodded slowly, though for a long while he did not speak. Eventually, he said: "Yes, Arya. We need your help."

After another long silence, Evandar spoke. "As you may or may not have picked up from our conversation with Faolin...our king...our friend...has been kidnapped also. Faolin's got Guntera."

**Don't tell me you expected all this all along: you didn't. Sit tight, folks. Now the stage is almost set the main quest is about to begin, and the action and thrills are going to go up tenfold, I promise you! REVEIIIIW! **


	13. The Fellowship of the King

**Hi guys, if you're still there of course! I am SOO sorry for not updating in so long, but writer's block has simply got the best of me. I do, however, have some good news: I have 3 weeks of school holidays coming up after this week, and so I am going to PROMISE that on every Friday of those holidays, you will have a new chapter! Also, to say sorry for making you wait all this time and thank you for anyone who has stuck with me, (though I won't blame you if I haven't,) everyone who reviews this chapter will get a pre-release copy of the next one! Please note though that this will be unedited and will probably be pretty sloppy. Some present, huh?**

**Oh, and this goes out to my fellow members of the Circle of Circles; we all love your stories, and since I am determined to revive my story, please do the same! Come on Tam and Elemental, let's bring it back! **

**Well, I know this chapter wasn't worth the wait, but I at least hope that it doesn't disappoint! Read on! **

The silence that followed was absolute. Angela, Oromis and, most of all, Evandar, all wore pained expressions on their faces and all seemed to be afraid to elaborate on the matter in case it might make it more true. Arya wasn't sure to make of this revelation. Frankly, the wellbeing of this person whom she had never met concerned her very little, considering the other things she had to worry about, but she couldn't help thinking that if the king of the gods was missing, things must be going rather badly indeed.

"And..." she said after a while, finally breaking the heavy silence. "And you think I can help you get him back?"

After another few long moments, Evandar nodded. "Yes, Arya. We need your help to save him."

There was another long silence. Arya simply could not comprehend what he was saying. How could she be of any use?

"But..." she said, "I...I've only just learned about your world!"

"_Our _world." Corrected Oromis. "You belong with the Grey Folk and Aleala as much as you belong to the elves and Alagesia, and to the riders on New Vrorengard. You're one of us."

"One of us, one of us..." murmured Angela drily.

"But..." said Arya, feeling slightly frustrated, "that doesn't change that I don't have your power! Those spells you can cast, and disappearing into thin air...I can't do it!"

"Oh really?" asked Angela, finally taking her eyes off the ball of thread she was rapidly transforming into a scarf and meeting Arya's eyes. "Well, that explains how you bought yourself, your dragon, and your friends to Tronjheim then!"

"No!" said Arya. "That was an accident! Don't you understand? I didn't know what I was doing, I can't control it! I can't help you."

Evandar looked grave. After a few moments of silence he said: "Arya? Have you perhaps heard of a certain prophesy?"

"I've heard several." Said Arya, confused.

"He's talking about the one I got Murtagh to tell you." Said Angela, now once again immersed in her knitting.

"What?" asked Arya. "He—he knows about you too? He's working for you?"

"He is one of us." Said Evandar. "Do you remember me telling you that the Forsworn were giants? Well, that makes Murtagh half-giant. But," he continued hastily in response to Arya's look of alarm, "don't worry. He's on our side—you can trust him."

"So," said Arya after a moment, "I suppose he's operating on the same policy of you then? He doesn't use his powers? Not even when we're being attacked by a giant?"

"He wasn't aware of his lineage or our existence until after the war, when I got in touch with him." Said Angela, conjuring up a second ball of thread and beginning to weave it into the original. "He didn't simply leave to find himself, or whatever he told you: he went out to scout the far reaches of the land and discover whether Faolin was operating out there. Not usually a task I'd entrust to a half-mortal who'd just discovered his powers, but he wanted to get away from all you people anyway. And as for his power, he doesn't know how to use it any more than you do. Clearly the inspiration did not strike him when you were fighting that moron."

"Anyway," said Evandar, "the prophesy."

"I think I know the one you're talking about." Said Arya. "'When days are dark and skies are grim.' Murtagh didn't tell it to me, although he knew it. Orik recited it."

"Ah yes." Said Oromis. "Didn't we give it to Korgan in case it happened and we hadn't found them?"

"Yes, I think I do recall telling him." Said Evandar. "Thank the stars for Guntera and his backup plans."

"Where would we be without them?" asked Angela, now halfway into creating a zigzag pattern on her scarf.

"Okay, let's get back on topic." Said Evandar irritably. "The prophesy may have become a little mangled over the years, but I trust Orik informed you about the chosen one? The 'one with half-eternal blood?'"

"One of noble lineage, greater than they know; the one with half eternal blood, across the seas must go." Recited Arya immediately.

Oromis nodded. "Remarkably well remembered by the dwarven scholars." He said. "We should give them more credit."

"Arya..." began Evandar gently. "'The one with half eternal blood' can only refer to one like you: half mortal, and half immortal."

There followed the longest silence yet. Arya couldn't take it in. _She _was supposed to be the one from this prophesy?

"_Firnen?" _she asked after a while, knowing she would not need to finish the question.

"_I...I do not know, Arya." _He replied, seeming as shocked as she was.

The silence was like the china plate most prized by one's mother: nobody dared break it, or even come close. It was a long time before Arya managed to speak.

"You mean...me?"

"You didn't already get that?" spluttered Angela, who immediately received burning looks from her two compatriots.

"Yes, Arya." Said Evandar, as quietly as she had ever heard him speak. "You...you are the only one it could be. You are the one the prophesy refers to. We need you."

These words were followed by a still longer silence. _"A single choice they must make, to follow truth or lie...And if they choose the wrong one, our world shall surely die..." _Arya played the words over and over in her head, transfixed with horror and (though she would never admit it to herself) copious amounts of fear. The prophesy made it clear that the person it referred to would have the fate of the world resting on their shoulders. How could it be her?

"_Arya..." _said Firnen, but she did not respond. She doubted she would be able to even hold a mental conversation with all the turmoil in her mind.

They needed her...Was that what she had to do? Help them rescue their king, and along the way, make some sort of choice to follow truth or lie? A choice that would determine whether or not Faolin would win?

She searched desperately for a way out. It couldn't be her. She didn't have their power—she was a half-breed. It had to be someone else...

"Murtagh." She said finally, making them all jump. "You just said that Murtagh is a half-Giant, so his blood is _half eternal _as well. What if it's him?"

Evandar shook his head slowly and sadly, as if he wished that were the case. Angela continued to knit.

"Ah," said Oromis, sounding exactly as he had done when he had taught her the basics of magic when she was small, "but you are forgetting an earlier line of the prophesy you yourself recited. 'One of _noble _lineage, Arya.' Murtagh's father Morzan was a Giant, and not a particularly important one at that. He may have power in his blood, but certainly not _nobility."_

"Of course, being my daughter, you're about as high-born as they come." Said Evandar with a grin, producing a loud snort from Angela.

"Joking aside, your father is correct." Said Oromis. "You and Murtagh are the only two Half-Eternals alive, and of the two of you, you are the only one who fits the criteria of the prophesy. There is no doubt that you are whom it refers to."

Arya was overwhelmed. Her last chance for escape had passed: the burden had fallen onto her shoulders with the weight of the city-mountain beneath them. The faces of the others were grave; even Angela was no longer smiling as she normally did.

"_Arya..." _said Firnen in a soothing voice, _"You have had this responsibility before_; _the war would not have_ _been won without you. You coped brilliantly then, and you will do just as well now."_

"_But this is just so much...bigger." _said Arya. _"There is so much more at stake this time!"_

"_No." _Said Firnen. _"Do not begin to think that. Last time you didn't know there was more, and for all you knew everything was at stake. You believed Galbatorix to be the greatest threat in the world, and so this is no different."_

"_Gods and Giants?" _said Arya in an uncharacteristically tired voice. _"This is too big for me, Firnen."_

Firnen gave her a mental smile. _"For you? Of course it is! But for us? No! No challenge is too great for us, my rider. We shall face this one together, and they will learn to fear us."_

Arya had the distinct impression that these words were coming more from Firnen's draconic pride than his usual logic, but she saw no reason to argue with the only positive voice in her mind.

After a while, Evandar spoke. "Our journeys would have taken us on the same path anyway." he said. "Our king and your friend are almost certainly imprisoned in the same place. Prophesy or not, you're in this war now."

"What must I do?" asked Arya in a small voice.

"Nothing that you would not be doing anyway." Said Oromis. "Faolin did not lie when he told you that you were the only one who could defeat the Grey Order. You are also the only one who can defeat the giants. You must, somehow, tip the balance."

"But no pressure." Said Angela.

Arya was silent for a long while. It didn't make any sense. How could _she _tip the balance of this war? She hadn't even known about it for a day!

"How?" she asked in an even smaller voice. "It's not like I have any power you don't; I don't even have a fraction of your strength!"

"It is clearly not your power or strength that will win or lose this war." Said Oromis. "But you will have an important part to play that will, eventually, dictate whether we win or lose. If I am correct, one part of the prophesy has already been fulfilled. _'A single choice they must make; to follow truth or lie.' _You chose to follow truth when you rejected Faolin's attempts to bring you to his side. That, I think, was the primary catalyst for the rest of the prophesy. If your choice had been to serve Faolin, then you would not do whatever it is you are supposed to do, and our cause would be doomed to fail."

"But there's no specific line that states I have to do anything else." Said Arya, once again grasping desperately for a loophole. "Only that if I chose the wrong one, the world shall surely die, or something like that."

"Yes." Said Oromis. "At first glance, one might think that the prophesy simply meant that if you went into Faolin's service, he would have used you as a weapon which would destroy us. However, remember the previous line: 'the one with half eternal blood, across the seas must go.' This suggests that there are parts of the prophesy which have not yet been resolved."

"Across the seas must go?" asked Arya. "Do you have any idea _where _exactly I need to go?"

"Of course not." Said Oromis. "Only time will tell, and it's likely you won't know the prophesy has been resolved, for better or for worse, until after the event. It could mean Vrorengard, New Vrorengard or any of the other islands off the coast of your land; it could be a place that we do not know of yet, or it could be our homeland, Alaela, which I think is most likely."

Arya leaned against the wall of the cave and slowly slid down into a sitting position, feeling once again that her legs were too weak to hold her weight. That day when she had set off from Ellesmera in search of Eragon seemed like a lifetime ago now. Oromis and Evandar and Angela had shown her what her real life was, and everything else in her past seemed far-off and disconnected now. It was all before the prophesy_. _

"Do not worry about it now." Said Oromis. "These things are out of our control. If you want answers, Guntera will be the only one who has the chance of giving them to you, but we need to find and rescue him first. All that we all know is that we need you on this quest."

"Besides, it's not like you have much of a choice." added Angela. "For one, your little _friend _Eragon is most likely locked up in the same place as our king is, and you'd have no you'd have no chance of rescuing him without our help. Also, you need training; Faolin's going to be after you now and there's no chance you'll be able to escape him once he starts actually sending capable minions."

Arya didn't particularly like the idea that the giant whom they had just barely escaped and whom she had considered the most powerful being in the world for most of her life was not a 'capable minion.'

"_Bring them on!" _said Firnen fiercely. _"I'm ready for a real challenge!"_

Arya shook her head, wondering how many sticky situations Firnen's pride was going to get them into.

"We're in." Said Arya, knowing she was speaking for her dragon too. Firnen let loose a challenging roar, as if daring the Giants to come face them and get it over with.

"Wonderful!" Evandar grinned. "Well, there's no time to waste! Let's assemble the company and be off!"

Angela nodded. "Murtagh should be awake by now; he was in a light doze when I left him. Thorn I'm not so sure about; I'll need you to have a look at him Oromis-I hate to admit it but you know rather a lot more about dragons than I do."

Oromis nodded, and they both vanished in flashes of light.

"Well," said Evandar after a few seconds of studying his daughter with a smile, "we'll need to teach you how to use your power along the way; we don't have the time to train you up before we leave."

"Where do I start?" asked Arya.

Evandar smiled. "It's a very complicated thing to learn, Arya, especially after you're used to using the rather more straightforward magic of the mortal world. You see, your magic, that is to say, the magic of the elves, humans, dwarves and urgals, relies on structured spells: different words for different jobs. Our magic, however, is much more abstract. It works, as you may have begun to understand, on willpower. So far, you have only been able to cast it when you have no other option. You can, however, with training, learn to control it, and not simply be limited to the spur of the moment."

Arya nodded. This idea, at least, was a familiar one: similar to how many young magicians would use their power by accident before discovering that they had the ability.

"There are no specific spells as such which we use to perform our magic. For now, I shall tell you that you simply need to concentrate on your desire for something to happen and how you want it to do so, though there is more to it than that. This is, of course, easier when you have no other option, which is why you have been able to cast it without realizing what you have been doing. It is, however, crucial that you learn how to cast this kind of magic at will, because you cannot fight the Giants with mortal weapons or spells; we cannot be directly affected by these things, as I am sure you have seen."

As soon as he had finished saying this, Angela re-appeared, accompanied by Murtagh, who arrived in a flash of crimson light, stumbled, and fell to the floor.

"Lesson one;" Said Angela, "land on your feet."

"I might have if I hadn't just been almost killed by a bloody Giant!" said Murtagh, angrily getting to his feet.

"Your fault for trying to kill a bloody Giant with that little stick of yours." Said Angela drily.

"Give him a break, Angela." Said Evandar exasperatedly.

"As if!" snorted Angela.

Murtagh seemed to bite back a retort, but decided that it just wasn't worth it. "Fine, I'll try to do better." He said. "Where's Thorn?"

"Oromis is with him." Said Angela. "His wounds were more severe than yours. Don't worry," she added in response to his alarmed expression, "he'll be fine. I'm sure you'd feel it if he died." Murtagh didn't seem very re-assured.

He said nothing for a moment, then, apparently giving up on arguing with the witch, he turned to Arya. "So," he said, "I guess you're in on it now?"

Arya nodded. "Yes." She said. "They told me everything—or at least, I think so."

"Of course we haven't told you _everything!_" said Angela, surprising even Arya. "Where would be the fun in that? You wouldn't have to listen in on our conversations or anything!"

Arya opened her mouth, then closed it again. It really was difficult to hold a conversation with Angela. Instead, she turned back to Murtagh. "I suppose you're coming on this rescue mission then?"

Murtagh nodded. "I'm coming for the same reason for you—Eragon." He replied simply.

"_Do you think he's telling the truth?" _Arya asked Firnen.

"_Yes, I do." _The dragon replied. _"He seems trustworthy to me." _

"_He hasn't exactly been completely honest with us so far though, has he?" _replied Arya.

"_No doubt the Order forbade him to tell us. Take it up with them." _

"_No, it's definitely not worth it." _Replied Arya, imagining another long-winded and pointless attempt to get information out of Angela—she didn't feel she had the energy at the moment.

There was a flash of light, and Oromis appeared, with Thorn by his side.

Murtagh ran up to them, looking a little frantic. His expression went blank, and Arya knew he was conversing with his dragon.

Oromis gave a faint smile at the two being reunited, then turned to the others. "He's alright." He said. "He's extremely lucky to be that way, though. Galbatorix cast a dark affliction on him, but I managed to break the spell."

Evandar smiled. "Excellent!" he said. "Well, now the company's assembled, we'd best be off! But where to start?"

Arya's face fell. "You mean...You don't know where we need to go?"

Evandar shook his head. "Of course we don't! Did you think Faolin would put his prisoners in a place which we could easily discover? This is not just Galbatorix you're fighting now—you have to remember that, Arya. Faolin operates very differently. He will never let us discover his main base if he can help it, not even if he were to succeed and win the war. If he sends his forces against us, they will likely be disguised as he was, and if we do happen to finally get through all of that and find a possible location which he may be holding the king at, it will most likely be a trap. You must keep your wits about you."

Arya nodded slowly. "Very well, but where do we go? I don't think we can afford to delay."

"To the place Eragon was kidnapped, of course!" said Angela exasperatedly, as if Arya was being a little slow.

"Why?" asked Arya, confused.

Angela sighed. "Haven't we already established that Eragon and Guntera are in the same place? That means that New Vrorengard is the best place for us to find clues as to where they were taken."

"I had a search party sent over there." Said Arya, remembering the conversation with Dathedr she had completely forgotten in the midst of all the things she'd gone through. "Maybe they can help; they may have found some things out already."

"_I forgot about them too." _Said Firnen. _"Come to think of it, shouldn't we have heard something from them by now?"_

Arya frowned. New Vrorengard was a fair way from the mouth of the river Edda, but she would indeed have expected an elven ship to have arrived there by now.

"_We should go to Ellesmera first." _Said Firnen, speaking to all of them now.

Evandar frowned. "Why?"

"Because I haven't heard anything from or about those elves I sent yet." Said Arya, immediately understanding her dragon's reasoning. "I almost forgot about them with everything that's been happening, but now I come to think of it I should have heard something by now, especially considering it's such an urgent matter."

"_We need to find out whether the two-legs in Ellesmera have simply forgotten to pass on the message, or if they haven't heard anything either." _Finished Firnen, sending a mental smile in Arya's direction. Arya knew why: she too was pleased that they were speaking in turn; Oromis had told her that it signified a strong bond between dragon and rider that not all pairs possessed.

"_Even if it's the former, it seems a little odd." _Said Arya to Firnen. _"I would have expected Dathedr to have contacted me by now anyway, if only to inform me that they've heard nothing from the search party."_

"_I agree."_ Said Firnen. _"It doesn't seem right. We should be cautious."_

Angela nodded. "Admittedly, that's a good idea." She said. "But only the two of us and will be able to go—considering Oromis and Evandar are supposed to be dead and nobody likes Murtagh and Thorn."

It was a mark of the seriousness of the moment that Murtagh didn't even crack a smile or offer a single retort.

Evandar shook his head. "If I know Faolin, he'll already have patrols out and about—he'll be furious that we got away and determined to find us. It's not safe to split up."

"Fine, but you're going to be the one explaining to the elves why you're not dead." Said Angela drily.

"We'll come with you to Ellesmera and lay low then." said Evandar. "If you run into trouble, contact us and we'll come."

"I think it's safe to say we're already in rather a lot of trouble." Replied Angela drily. "But I think I take your meaning. Before we leave though, we're going to have to come up with something to tell our dwarven friends."

For once, Arya was ahead of Angela on that one. "I've already thought of that." She said, savouring the rare moment. "We just tell Orik that we came up against some of the members of Az Sweldn Rak Anhuin; they're the group of dwarves we thought had kidnapped Eragon. We-"

"Tell them that there was a fight and they were killed, but before they died we got some information from them which means we need to go to Ellesmera." Finished Murtagh with a wide grin. "Very nice for someone who learned to speak in a language which doesn't allow lying."

"On the contrary." Replied Arya grimly. "We elves are better liars than most. If there's nothing else you think I ought to know, Firnen and I shall go now."

"I'll come with you." Said Angela. "It's a bad idea for us to make any excursions by ourselves right now, especially considering you can't even fight. And Murtagh, before you sign up as well, I wouldn't bother. Any negotiations with dwarves are not going to proceed well if you're involved." Murtagh didn't look that offended, and simply shrugged.

"I don't want to risk teleporting into a city full of dwarves." Said Angela. "Guntera would have my hide. Firnen, care to take us down?"

"_Of course." _He said.

Firnen crouched to his knees and Arya climbed on his back with the witch behind her. "See you soon!" said Arya, and they were off. "Or not!" yelled Angela, as Firnen's tail left the mouth of the cave.

As soon as they were out, the first thing Arya noticed was the freezing, bitter cold. The second thing she noticed was that they were not, as it happened, flying.

Rather, they were dropping like an over-large emerald stone, with the wind having just enough time to sting their faces before it passed them by. Firnen's wings flapped frantically but it was absolutely no use.

"_I can't stop it!" _yelled Firnen frantically. _"It feels like there's nothing underneath my wings!"_

"_Oh!" _butted in Angela conversationally. _"Did I forget to mention that the air is too thin up here for you to fly?"_

"_YES!" _roared Firnen.

"_Oh, my bad." _Said Angela.

"_Can't you do something?" _asked Arya frantically.

"_Of course." _Said Angela.

"_THEN DO IT!" _

"_Well, you see, that's all very well and good, but if I did, it would take us an age to get down there." _

"_Well, this way we're going to be in about a million pieces when we do!" _yelled Firnen angrily, letting out a roar that nobody could hear.

"_Quite right." _Said Angela. _"Which is why I strongly advise you dive now and level out as soon as we get to some manageable altitudes." _

"_Are you crazy?" _yelled Arya.

"_Yes." _She said.

Not presented with any other options, Firnen struggled into a nose down position and folded his wings. The ground was coming up to meet them alarmingly quickly now; they could no longer see the entirety of the surface and the city seemed to be on a growth spurt.

Arya thought she was about to pass out. She shut her eyes and pressed herself against Firnen's neck, but she could feel the blood rushing to her head and the air was moving so fast she could barely pull any into her lungs.

"_Try now." _Said Angela, as if they were conducting a mildly interesting experiment. _"Wings open, level out slowly, there's a good chap!" _

Firnen's wings burst open as he pulled out of the dive. Arya' opened her eyes and screamed: they were at most a few hundred feet off the ground and still dropping.

"_Perfect!" _said Angela.

They were now racing towards the city-mountain at breakneck speed, and still dropping so that they were now well below its peak.

"_We may need to kill a little speed!" _said Angela. Immediately Firnen pulled back and flapped his wings as hard as he could with several powerful beats.

"A bit more!" said Angela. "Hold on!"

There was a tremendous _bang _and Arya was thrown forwards as they almost came to a complete stop in mid-air. A few seconds later Arya felt a great jolt. It took her a few seconds to realize that they had landed, and right in front of the city-mountain's gates.

"_Wonderful!" _said Angela brightly.

It took Arya several seconds to recover from the shock of their hard landing, after which she shakily dismounted.

"_Are you okay?"_ she asked her dragon.

"_Naturally." _He said, making a valiant attempt to hide from her how much the landing had shaken him. _"All in a day's work."_

"_Right!" _said Angela, dismounting and walking up to her. _"Let's go see Orik then!"_

The guards at the gates quickly admitted them, and they enjoyed a blissfully uneventful walk up to the palace, during which they went over the finer points of what they were going to say to Orik. Soon enough they stood before the dwarf on his throne.

"Leave us." He told his guards, and they swiftly departed the throne room.

"What news?" he asked, and Arya thanked the now apparently existent Guntera that he could not speak in the ancient language. "I've heard reports of an explosion in a remote part of the city. Did that have anything to do with you?"

Arya nodded. "We've been paid a visit." She said grimly. "By our friends in Az Sweldn Rak Anhuin."

"What?" roared Orik, standing up in alarm.

"Oh, don't worry." Said Angela brightly. "They're now residing in Morgothal's halls."

"Such knurla have no place in the halls of Morthothal." Growled Orik. "They will be in the dungeons of Angvard."

"Actually, I'm quite sure that's where they came from." Said Angela. "But never mind. We _would _have captured them so you could conduct some questioning, but I'm afraid they were mortally wounded in the fight. We _did _however manage to glean some nice, juicy secrets from their minds before they bit the dust though."

"Out with it, then!" said Orik excitedly.

"You could have said 'please,' but alright." Said Angela. "We have discovered, or else have been tricked into believing, that your rouge clan are operating out of Du Weldenvarden."

"What?" said Orik, incredulous. "Those _scum _are in your lands, Arya? How is it that they have been able to get in?"

"I suspect the same way they made their way into your city carrying enchanted weapons." Replied Arya coolly.

Orik scowled. "Very well." He said. "Let us be off then."

"Oh, I'm afraid we won't have the pleasure of your company on this trip." Said Angela.

"What?" said Orik. "Why?"

"Well, if you really can't work it out, Az Sweldn Rak Anhuin are dwarves." Said Angela. "Considering the way they managed to reach us with your city hopefully on high alert without encountering any complications, we can safely bet that they have infiltrated your ranks. Anyone could be with them for all we know, so we need someone we can trust to stay here."

Orik frowned. "You are right, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to be abandoning a quest before its completion. I said I would help you rescue mine brother, and I intended to do so."

"No doubt the situation will change soon." Said Arya, feeling a little sorry for the dwarf. "We cannot predict what will happen next, but your part in this is certainly not over. We will keep you updated as much as possible. For the mean time, be watchful and stay safe. We're counting on you, Orik."

Orik sighed, looking a little heartened by the idea that he had an important role to play. "Very well." He said. "Safe journey to you, then, and good luck."

With that, they exited the throne room and returned to Firnen, who was waiting outside the city gates.

"_I fear I will not be able to get us back up there." _Said Firnen resignedly, and Arya knew it pained him to admit there was a place he could not fly to.

"_Of course you won't." _Replied Angela. _"Just fly up high enough so that our friends down here won't be looking and then I'll take us back to the cave the fast way." _

In reply he crouched to his knees, allowing them to mount, and kicked off the ground, circling slowly higher above the city.

"_That should do it." _Said Angela, when they were at the point where the people of the city below could no longer be seen. _"Arya, hold on tight!" _Arya braced herself, clutching onto the neck spike in front of her with all her might. A second later, they were consumed by a blinding flash of light and sent hurtling forwards into nothingness. An instant later Firnen's feet hit the floor of the cave.

"How did it go?" asked Evandar as they dismounted.

"He bought it." Said Arya.

"Excellent!" he replied. "The fellowship of the king is assembled! To Ellesmera, then! Hands in, everyone."

Oromis, Angela and Murtagh stood in a circle with their arms outstretched so their hands met in the middle, and Arya mimicked them. Thorn walked up to them on unsteady legs and craned his neck so that his massive snout joined their hands and Firnen did the same. Arya sighed. She'd really had enough of this mode of travel for one day. There was a blinding flash of light, and they were off.


	14. It's a Trap!

**Hi guys! First, I'm really, really sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I've just had a really bad case of writer's block, and I've been seriously struggling to get more than a sentence down at a time. That, coupled with the fact that since we haven't had any real action scenes since chapter 9, I wanted to have some fighting in this one, meant that this was a real pain for me to write. Still, I've finally managed to force myself to sit down and do it, and although it took me ages to get my creative flow back, I did, and here's the result!**

**I know this is a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get it out as soon as possible since it's so overdue. Besides, I think it finishes on a nice little cliff-hanger. I'm still going to say that you can expect the next chapter on Friday, but, honestly, I'm not going to release a chapter until I'm happy with it, because I think you guys would rather wait a few days and get something good and enjoyable than get something on time but crappy. **

**All that said, here's the latest installation of our saga-I hope you like it! **

They spun around the point where their hands met at lightning speed, hurtling forwards into the nexus of swirling light. A second later, Arya's feet hit the floor and she fell to the ground. Slowly, she stood up and looked around. With a jolt, she realized that it had all gone horribly wrong. For one thing, she was standing in a horribly familiar cavern of black rock, and for another, she was completely alone.

Well, she realized after a second, that wasn't entirely true. While there was no sign of her friends, in front of her stood an ominously gigantic throne, and in it sat its usual occupant. Faolin's chin was resting in his hand, and he wore a thoughtful and slightly troubled expression on his fiery features.

_Another vision. _Arya thought. But how could that be? She only ever experienced them when she was asleep. Had she somehow been knocked out, or was she really in the throne room this time? That was a terrifying idea, and instinctively she crouched down, so as to make herself less visible in the murky darkness. A second later, another Giant materialized in a flash of fire, and at the sight of his face, Arya almost fell flat on her back. It was Dathedr.

The wraith-Dather crouched to his knees before Faolin, and the Giant Lord stood up and nodded as if he had been expecting this visitor. Dathedr rose to his feet.

"My lord." He said, his voice for once genuinely deferent and respectful.

"I am afraid that I have been...unsuccessful." said Faolin after a few seconds. "The girl is more resistant to deception than I was led to believe. I attempted to bring her here, but she was protected by a powerful ward which prevented me from doing so and revealed my true appearance to her."

"Troubling news indeed." Said Dathedr, adopting an expression of deep concern Arya knew well—it was the one he wore whenever he was inclined to fake or exaggerate the emotion.

"Yes, it is." Said Faolin, his voice quiet and musing. "I think I may have a few questions for our guest regarding the matter, but that is not why I have summoned you. As you may have guessed, we are now going to have to resort to plan 'B'."

"Yes, my lord." Said Dathder. "But, if I may ask...Can we be sure that she will return to Ellesmera?"

"I am confident." Said Faolin simply, in a tone that clearly said that he was not about to discuss the matter.

Datherdr nodded again. "Of course, my lord."

"Now," said Faolin, "whatever affliction has been cast upon me by that infernal ward, I am unable to return to my elven form, and so will be prevented from entering Du Weldenvarden by its wards."

"You may trust me to act in your stead, my lord." Said Dathedr, sounding as though he would like nothing more than the opportunity to show his master that he was a dependable little servant.

"I trust you to know what will happen to you should you fail." Growled Faolin. The other Giant bowed his head, and Arya thought she could see him trembling slightly.

"I will not fail you, my lord." He said.

"I should hope not." Said Faolin. "Now, remember; I want her bought to me ALIVE. Now go."

Dathedr bowed low once more, and in a flash of fire he was gone. Faolin looked around the room, once again deep in thought. Arya's heart stopped. His eyes had come to rest on her.

At once, his expression broke into one of utmost anger and surprise. He let out a furious snarl and slashed his hand through the air. There was a crack of thunder and she was thrown backwards through the air. Her eyes snapped shut and she landed hard on her back, winded by the impact.

She lay there for a few moments trying to regain her breath, before her eyes snapped open, revealing the tall pines of Ellesmera above her, and the faces of her friends gazing down upon her with worried expressions.

She was lying in the middle of a wide clearing; but though she was back out in the open air, the level of light hadn't improved much. It was always twilight in the thicker parts of Du Weldenvarden, but the black clouds above the canopy were now thicker and darker than ever, meaning that almost no light reached this far down. Thunder boomed overhead, and the general effect of it all only reinforced Arya's feeling of foreboding.

"Arya!" said Evandar. "Are you alright?"

"It's a trap!" she yelled, suddenly conscious of the urgency of the situation. "We have to go!"

"What?" said Evandar confusedly.

"Dathedr—the Giants—they're coming! We have to get out of here now!"

"Teleporting sickness." Murmured Oromis. "It happens a lot to beginners. Take it easy, Arya, everything's alright."

"No!" she yelled, pulling herself into a sitting position, her heart racing. "You don't understand! I went to the throne room; Dathedr is a Giant, and this is a trap!"

"_Arya?" _asked Firnen in a worried voice.

In response, Arya transferred her memories of everything that had happened since they had left Tronjheim to him. For a moment, he was startled, but then he extended his mind to everyone present.

"_My rider was somehow transported to Faolin's throne room during the trip here." _He said quickly. _"She witnessed a conversation between him and one of her supposed advisors, Dathedr, who apparently is a Giant."_

"That's not possible." Replied Evandar. "She was with us the whole time. Besides, we can't have been travelling for more than a few seconds."

Arya sighed in exasperation. "We don't have time for this!" she yelled. Frantically, she extended her mind to everyone in the company and showed them her memories. For a few seconds, she felt them all examine them, but before anyone could reply, there was a great whooshing sound behind where she lay. She leapt up, spinning around in mid air to face the source of the noise, just in time to see a horde of Giants materialize in puffs of smoke.

Fast as lighting, her companions sprung into action. Angela held out her hand and the sword-staff Arya had seen her use during the war appeared, though its twin blades now shone like the moon and crackled with lightning. Oromis drew his sword, which now glowed with a bronze light which lit up the whole clearing. Evandar held a great ethereal longbow. Murtagh's sword, Zaroc, flashed from its scabbard, and it, at least, looked as it always had.

The Giants immediately responded in kind. Bows, swords, spears and whips appeared in their hands, all crackling with fire. Arya barely had time to draw her own sword before the Giants charged.

Before they had even gone a meter, Evandar shot one of them right through the heart, and within a few seconds he had dropped at least half a dozen in the same way. Firnen and Thorn opened their mouths in unison and blasted torrents of fire into the Giant's path. The flames overcame a few of the lesser ones but the rest charged on through it as if it were merely a light spray of water.

Angela pushed Arya to the ground as a fiery arrow from one of the archers flew past where her head had been. A moment later, she felt a searing heat on her face as one of the Giants made to grab her, but before his hand could reach her Angela's spear plunged into his heart and went right through.

For a moment, Arya was sure that the weapon would do nothing, just as Murtagh's had failed to make contact with Galbatorix. However, lightning crackled through the Giant's form and he roared in pain as fire poured out of the wound in his chest, and when Angela pulled the spear out and he fell to the ground, lifeless.

Around her the battle began in earnest. One Giant stabbed his spear at Oromis, but in one fluid motion he spun around and slashed his mighty sword through the Giant's midsection, vaporizing him instantly. Another charged Evandar, fiery sword raised above his head, but just when he was about to reach him Evandar calmly loosed an arrow into his chest, spun around, and within a second had shot yet another who was attacking Murtagh in the back.

Murtagh, who the Giant had disarmed with his first stroke, promptly grabbed his fallen enemy's spear and brandished it against a second attacker.

Arya rolled backwards and jumped to her feet, her sword at the ready. Angela stood in front of her, using her double-bladed staff to hold off two Giants. Deciding that maybe weapons did work against these Giants after all, she lunged in against the first and ran the sword into his side. For a moment, she was sure that the blow would wound the Giant, but once again the sword had passed through him like vapour.

Apparently he felt it though, as he turned and tried to slash Arya. Seeing this, Angela tried to take advantage, but the second Giant forced her to block another strike. Arya dropped to the floor and rolled backwards, coming up at a crouch. The Giant raised his sword for a killing blow, and instinctively she raised Tamerlain to block, but to no avail; the Giant's sword passed through it like smoke and she only just managed to roll out of the way of the weapon.

_I need a god's weapon! _She thought angrily.

"_Arya!" _Firnen yelled into her mind, as the Giant stabbed down with lightning speed.

There was a great pulse of emerald light and the ethereal sword was knocked to the side. Turning to her sword, she realized disbelievingly that it now glowed with green energy.

Before she had time to think on this though, her instincts took over. With lightning speed she rolled forwards and stabbed the sword into the Giant's leg.

The Giant roared in pain and surprise as Tamerlain opened a fiery wound on his thigh. Without pause, Arya leapt to her feet. Taking advantage of her adversaries' distraction, she swung the sword back behind her and then bought it forward with all her strength, slashing him across his midriff. The sword opened a huge gash, with fire pouring out of it like blood. He fell to the ground, and Angela, who had now defeated the first Giant, jabbed her sword-staff and blasted him with a bolt of lightning, killing him instantly.

Despite this, the expression on the witch's face was desperate. "There are too many of them!" she yelled, casually thrusting her sword-staff behind her and blasting another Giant as she did. "You and Firnen have to go, now!"

"I'm not leaving!" yelled Arya.

"We'll follow once you're away!" yelled Angela. "Just get out of here!"

Arya scanned the battlefield, and quickly decided that Angela was right: they were losing. The Giants were swarming them from all sides, and Arya was sure that more must have arrived since the battle had been joined.

She located Firnen, who was side by side with Thorn. Together, they were barely holding their enemies at bay with ferocious blasts of fire. Oromis seemed to be trying to work his way over to them to help, but he kept being blocked by more and more Giants.

"_We need to leave, now!" _said Arya to Firnen. _"We're pulling back!"_

"_Maybe that's not a bad idea." _Said Firnen, who looked like he was on the verge of being overwhelmed.

Without another word he kicked off the ground and with a single beat of his enormous wings he sent himself gliding towards his rider. Knowing there was no time or space for him to land, Arya jumped up as high as she could and managed to catch hold of one of his saddle straps, which she promptly used to haul herself into the saddle.

"_Circle around to Murtagh!" _she said, thinking quickly. _"Fly low!" _

Murtagh was currently struggling to battle one of the stronger Giants, who stood nearly twice as tall as him and brandished a massive flaming whip.

"_Thorn!" _she yelled, reaching out her mind to the ruby dragon. _"Take off and fly low over your rider so that he can jump up to you!" _The dragon sent her a mental nod, and a second later he sprung into the air.

Firnen passed over Murtagh's head and began to beat his wings rapidly to pull away from the battle. A second later, Thorn was over his rider, who leapt up and just managed to pull himself into the saddle as the Giant's whip was about to strike him. They were away.

Arya surveyed the receding battle. From what she could see, the others were attempting to regroup and retreat, but the Giants continued to press them from all sides. It didn't look like they had much chance of getting away.

"_We have to go back and help them, they'll never make it!" _yelled Arya to Firnen, Murtagh and Thorn. None of them offered any disagreement, and immediately the two dragons turned themselves around and began to head back towards the battle.

A mind reached out to her. Instinctively she raised her defences, but it brushed them aside as though they were the mental walls of an untrained child, and she felt it do the same to Firnen. By the look on Murtagh's face, the same was happening to him. It took her a moment to realize that the mind was indeed her father's.

"_No!" _he yelled into her mind. _"We'll get out, we've faced much worse. Get as far away as you can and I promise we'll catch up to you. Just don't try to teleport—that means instantly transport to another location, by the way—because they'll be able to catch you. Just go!" _

"_I don't like leaving them behind." _Said Arya to the group.

"_Nor do I." _Said Thorn.

"_We can't help them there; those Giants are out of our league." _Said Murtagh.

"_I have to agree." _Said Firnen.

"_Very well." _Said Thorn, and with that he turned back around, Firnen following close behind him. With a few powerful strokes of their wings, the two dragons had cleared the canopy.

Arya turned around and took one last glance at the battle. Several of the Giants leapt into the air, and took off towards them like arrows from bows, each one leaving a trail of smoke behind them.

"_Firnen!" _she yelled, sending her dragon a mental image of what she was seeing. Immediately, the dragon redoubled his speed.

"_They can fly?" _asked Murtagh, sounding rather annoyed. _"That's not fair!" _

Though the dragons were now flying flat out, the Giants were still keeping pace. The leader raised his hand and sent a blast of dark energy at Thorn. The dragon rolled out of the way just in time. Two more blasts came towards Firnen.

"_Dodge!" _Arya yelled to her dragon, and instantly Firnen jerked himself to the right so quickly that she almost fell off.

Arya stretched out her mind so that it pressed closely against Firnen's and he would be able to see what she saw, and immediately understanding he allowed her in.

"_Try and stay level, I'm going to turn around." _Said Arya. As quickly as she could, she pulled herself up and bought her leg over so that she could turn around, but seeing the opportunity the lead Giant shot another bolt of energy at them, forcing Firnen to swerve out of the way. With a yell of surprise Arya fell out of the saddle and in to open space.

Her reflexes saved her; she just managed to grab hold of one of Firnen's saddle straps as she slid down his flank. She hung there for a moment in shock before she remembered to hoist herself back onto his back, this time sitting backwards so she faced the oncoming Giants.

Looking to her left, she saw Murtagh must have had the same idea, and was sitting backwards in the saddle. The rider jabbed his new spear and a jet of fire shot from its tip towards the lead Giant, but he managed to dodge out of the way.

"_How did you do that?" _asked Arya incredulously.

"_I have no idea!" _replied Murtagh.

"_Well, could you figure it out so you can do it again?" _she asked.

In response, he jabbed the spear once again, and this time the beam of fire found its mark and vaporized the Giant.

"_That works!" _she said.

Another salvo of dark energy came from the other Giants, and the two dragons barely managed to dodge them.

"_I can't keep this up for much longer!" _yelled Firnen.

Desperately, Arya raised her hand and imagined forming a wall of green energy to block the Giants' path. She concentrated on the image with all her might and willed it to become reality.

There was a tremendous _bang_ as a great wall of emerald light exploded into being right in front of the Giants. Most managed to swerve to avoid it, but the two leaders barely had time to register what they were seeing before they slammed into it at full speed and fell out of the sky, lifeless. Arya felt a sudden and drop in her energy, and she knew the strange magic had taken its toll.

"_Brilliant!" _said Murtagh.

"_We're not done yet." _Replied Arya.

Without a word, Firnen began to replenish her energy with his own, but immediately she blocked him out.

"_Arya-"_

"_I'm fine." _She said. _"You need your strength for the flight."_

Yet another blast of dark energy flew at them, and Firnen just managed to dodge.

"_We need to lose them!" _said Arya.

"_I could try diving underneath the canopy." _Suggested Firnen.

"_That would only give them the advantage; they're more manoeuvrable than we are." _said Arya.

"_We have to do something!" _Said Firnen, dodging again as one of the Giants tried to blast him out of the sky.

Arya thought hard, searching for a way out. One thing was for sure; their current situation was hopeless, and sooner or later they would be hit. But there were still at least five Giants pursuing them, and she and Murtagh didn't know nearly enough about magic to fight them off at a distance...

"_Slow down." _She said, speaking not just to Firnen now but to Murtagh and Thorn as well. _"Let them catch up."_

"_What, you mean give up?" _asked Murtagh incredulously.

"_No," _said Arya, _"I mean close with them so we can fight hand-to-hand. We're not going to hold them off like this."_

"_Not a bad idea." _Said Murtagh. _"It looks like we don't have a choice."_

Apparently his dragon agreed, as he began to slow his pace. Firnen followed suit, and Arya thought he was secretly glad to be able to slow down a little.

Though the dragons were still flying at an impressive speed, the Giants were now gaining on them rapidly. As they closed, ethereal weapons appeared in their hands; spears, swords, maces, axes and whips.

_At least they're not holding their range _Thought Arya. Then she remembered how Dathedr had been ordered to take her alive, and she wondered if this was in fact exactly what they wanted. She looked to Tamerlain, which was still glowing brightly, and she thought sarcastically that she was on the verge of praying to the dwarven gods for it to still work against the Giants. Then she realized that the dwarven gods currently had problems of their own, and would likely be unavailable for prayer-answering at this time.


	15. Escape

**HI guys! **

**Once again, I am soooo sorry for being so late, but since last chapter was pretty short I wanted to make up for it with this one. I hope you'll agree that the trade-off was worth it—I've been working on this one for hours, as usually I've done half of the chapter in one gargantuan effort because I've decided I can't wait any longer. AS a consequence, this is either the longest chapter yet or very close—I hope you enjoy! **

The Giants caught up to them within seconds.

The first flew straight towards Arya, with his sword raised and a leering grin on his face.

He bought his sword down with lightning speed, and Arya swung Tamerlain to block. The two blades connected with a blinding flash, and the Giant's eyes widened, as if to say 'wait a minute, since when could you-' with his unspoken sentence being cut short as Arya pushed his sword away and stabbed hers right into his heart.

Her opponent fell out of the sky, fire pouring out of his chest and making him look like a strange sort of dark shooting star falling to earth. Meanwhile, Murtagh was fighting another opponent. This one held a mace, like Galbatorix had. Murtagh was barely holding him off but he hardly had the ideal weapon for fighting on Dragon back, and was becoming increasingly hard-pressed to block the Giant's attacks.

Without hesitation, or any real thought, Arya raised her hand and concentrated on blasting the Giant. A bolt of emerald light shot from her hand; the Giant turned just in time to see it coming and it hit him full in the chest. He flew backwards several metres before dropping like a stone, dissolving as he fell.

"Thanks!" yelled Murtagh. "I owe you one!"

Meanwhile, a third Giant had used the time to come around the other side of Firnen. Firnen turned, and seeing the attacker, unleashed a blast of flame as hot as he could conjure. With a roar of surprise, the Giant was thrown backwards—but emerged from the fire unfazed and unharmed. Arya turned and saw him just as he raised his hand, a nimbus of fiery power forming in his palm.

Knowing what was about to happen a split second before it did, Arya threw her hand up to intercept, concentrating as hard as she could on blocking the impending attack.

A jet of emerald energy met the Giant's blast of fire in mid air with a blinding explosion of light. With a grim snarl, the Giant pushed his palm slowly forward, and Arya felt the strain of keeping his attack at bay. They were locked in a battle of wills, and the Giant was winning; pushing his beam of fire ever closer to Arya and Firnen. Arya held on, desperate to hold him off. She pushed against him with all her might and gained some ground, but the effort physically exhausted her. Sensing her weakness through the connection, the Giant redoubled his attack with a savage thrust of his palm...

Right when Arya's jet of light had been pushed back to only a few metres away from her, a bolt of fire streaked through the night and hit the Giant in the shoulder. He roared in pain and the impact would have sent him flying backwards head over heels had he lived long enough. The jet of fire connecting his hand and Arya's receded back into his palm, and Arya's hand was jerked forward in the absence of a resisting force. Her counter-beam struck the Giant, and he was utterly vaporized in a massive explosion of green energy.

For a moment, Arya was completely stunned by what she had done, but was bought out of her shock by an exhilarated laugh from Murtagh.

"So much for him!" he yelled, his fiery spear still pointed towards where the Giant had been.

"Thanks!" she yelled in reply, realized it had been him who'd saved her.

"Now we're even!" he said.

Their respite was short lived—the final two Giants, who had put on a burst of speed to get ahead of their enemies, now dived out of the clouds towards Murtagh and Thorn.

"Look out!" yelled Arya, and Firnen roared in warning. Thorn loosed a vicious blast of flame at them, but they were going so fast they passed through it in a fraction of a second. The first lashed out with his flaming whip, and before Murtagh even had time to defend himself it struck his face with a fiery explosion. With a yell, the rider was thrown out of his saddle—and into thin air.

Before Thorn had even registered the loss of his rider, the second Giant flew by, and latched himself onto the red Dragon. The Giant leaped onto Thorn's back and pulled back his sword to stab, and Arya knew that Thorn's scales would be no protection against such a weapon.

Thorn paid no heed to it though—folding his great wings he dived down to save his falling rider. The Giant, however, held on by the Thorn's saddle.

With a yell of desperation, Arya launched a bolt of energy at the Giant, but it missed and flew over his head. The Giant raised his sword, ready to strike.

"No!" yelled Murtagh. He muttered a quick spell and stopped dead.

Thorn reached him within a second, and before the Giant knew what was happening Thorn's wings burst open, jolting him so much that he was thrown off of the Dragon's back and into empty space. Before he could react, Murtagh jabbed his spear and blasted him out of the sky.

Thorn continued to drop, though more slowly, but Murtagh remained where he was—floating in mid air. Arya heard a rushing sound to her right. Turning, she saw the other remaining Giant flying in towards her, his whip raised and ready to strike.

"_Slow down!" _she yelled into Firnen's mind. Without hesitation, he angled his wings forward and with one powerful beat cut their speed in half. The Giant went sailing past them in surprise, his whip flying out and hitting empty space.

"_Wish me luck." _She said to Firnen.

Arya sprang up out of the saddle and stood on her Dragon's back, and, steeling herself, turned herself around so that she once again faced forwards, doing her best to remain upright.

"_What are you doing?" _yelled Firnen, desperately trying to stabilize himself so that his rider wouldn't fall off. His question was answered as the furious Giant turned around and came racing back towards them.

Arya knew that if he got close his whip would knock her out of the sky. She raised her hand, thrusting her palm forwards and concentrating with all her might on pushing him away.

There was a thunderous _boom _and the Giant was thrown backwards with a yell of surprise.

A second later, a spear sprouted from his chest. The Giant disintegrated to reveal none other than Murtagh behind him.

That was when Arya's knees buckled—blasting that Giant back had left her completely drained. Luckily, she was able to control her fall so that she landed half in the saddle, and was able to pull herself back into a sitting position. Murtagh flew towards her, leaving a trail of light behind him like an oddly-shaped comet in the watery dawn light.

"So much for them!" he said, coming to hover next to Firnen, who was also holding his position.

"How are you doing that?" asked Arya incredulously.

"Hah!" he said. "Well, I'm not sure if you've forgotten, but we have magic too. Just because they have all their fancy powers doesn't mean an ordinary man such as myself can't cast a lowly mortal spell to stop myself from falling to my doom. The flying's new though; I just saw that Giant coming for you and, well..." he finished his explanation by flying a loop around the Dragon and rider. "I'll bet you can do it as well. Care to fall to your doom and find out?"

"Another time, maybe." Said Arya.

Thorn flew up to them, and Murtagh glided in and gently set himself down into his Dragon's saddle.

"Well," he said, "I believe we've won! Let's get out of here!"

Without another word, Firnen and Thorn launched themselves forward once again, beating their wings steadily and pulling further and further away from the battlefield at a steady pace. Arya's racing heartbeat finally began to slow, and she slipped the still-glowing Tamerlain back into its scabbard.

She looked around. The light was getting stronger now, though the clouds above were still as black as ever. Beneath them, the trees of Du Weldenvarden stretched in all directions, although with the visibility as it was the edge could still only be a few miles off for all they knew. Thunder continued to boom overhead; something Arya was becoming accustomed to. The sound was becoming louder and closer, and, predictably, it soon began to rain.

"_How far do you think we should go?"_ asked Arya, contacting the minds of both Murtagh and Thorn.

"_We need to at least get to the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden." _Replied Murtagh after a few moments. _"I don't know what's going on but it seems to me like the Giants are in control of this place, so the best thing to do is get out of their sphere of influence before we make our next move." _

"_We can't go too far, or the others won't be able to find us." _Said Arya. _"We still need to meet up with them." _

"_I'm sure they have their ways." _Said Murtagh wryly. _"Our priority now should be to keep ourselves alive and let them come to us."_

Arya didn't like the thought of leaving the battle so far behind, but she knew Murtagh was right: Angela, Evandar and Oromis were sure to have ways of their own. 

"_I'd be helpful if we knew where we were." _Said Arya. _"We could fly for days and still be right over the forest if we go in the wrong direction." _

"_We might be able to tell if the sun was visible." _Said Firnen.

Arya nodded. _"It won't be easy, but maybe I can cast a spell to make a break in the clouds so we can see where the sun is. Hold on..." _

"_I have a better idea." _Said Murtagh. He rummaged around in his pockets for a few moments, then pulled out a strange device: a small, shallow bowl filled with water and capped with glass, in which floated a metal needle.

"_It's a compass." _Explained Murtagh. _"Angela gave it to me before I left on my little scouting trip. The needle always points north, see?" _He held it flat in his palm and started at it for a few seconds. _"We need to go that way." _

Firnen and Thorn adjusted their courses accordingly. Meanwhile, the rain was once again increasing in intensity, with the wind blowing it about so that it periodically went from hitting their backs to their faces to their sides, seemingly determined to ensure they would become as soaked as possible. The thunder overhead grew ever louder with blinding lightning strikes becoming ever more frequent. Worse, the storm only seemed to be stronger to the south, with the clouds ahead becoming ever darker and more dense.

The two Dragons struggled on, but the spurt of speed they had been required to make had tired them considerably. Progressing in this weather was difficult at the best of times, but weary from battle as they were, they were hard-pressed to make any headway, and it was only getting worse.

The rain was beginning to make Arya shiver. Despite being tired from fighting the Giants, she decided that the some warmth would be worth a further loss of energy and murmured a spell to ward off the rain and then one to dry her clothes; two magical phrases which had been engraved into her memory from using them so much of late.

She turned to Murtagh; the raindrops bouncing off an invisible barrier an inch from his skin suggested he had decided to do the same.

"You never did tell me;" yelled Arya to him, struggling to be heard over the wind and the thunder, "what did you find while you were away? Are the Giants out there?"

Murtagh shook his head. _"It's hard to say. Things are definitely darker out in the border lands; the weather's even worse than it is in these parts, and even the air feels evil. I didn't find any Giants though, no matter how hard I looked, which is odd to say the least."_

Arya frowned. _"What do you mean?" _

"_Well," _said Murtagh, _"This weather, the rain and the clouds and the darkness...it's hardly natural, is it? It seems to me it's some kind of side-effect of Faolin's return, so I would have thought that the darkness would be strongest where he is."_

Arya's frown deepened. She'd had always had the vague idea in her mind that there was a connection between the odd occurrences (which she now knew to be a result of the return of the Giants) and the strange weather, but she had never really thought about it. Now Murtagh said it, though, it would make sense for all the unnatural darkness to be a result of Faolin's power, and that bought with it a chilling thought:

"_The skies are getting darker and darker." _She said. _"Faolin must be getting stronger."_

Neither of them spoke for a long time after that. They flew on, their energy draining more and more quickly as the conditions grew steadily worse. Though Arya knew the sun was still on the rise, it was barely getting any lighter; even above the trees, the black clouds took most of the light from the world. To make matters worse, Arya had only dark thoughts to dwell on.

She knew that Oromis had said Faolin's Giants had likely been ordered not to reveal their true identities to the people of Alagesia for fear those people might come to think of them as gods instead of Faolin himself, but the elves weren't likely to call anyone a god, no matter their powers.

"_Yes, but word gets around." _Said Firnen in an attempt to comfort her. _"If the Giant's existence became known to your people, then everyone else would know soon enough. Faolin is much too cautious to let that happen—Dathedr will not officially have taken control of Ellesmera."_

"_That's not very re-assuring." _Said Arya grimly. _"Whether they know it or not, my people are now under the control of the Giants. I'm their queen, Firnen. I have to help them!" _

"_As annoying as they can be, you are right." _Said Firnen calmly. _"We must do something to assist them, and so we are. We're on a mission to bring down the Giants, aren't we?" _

"_But Dathedr's still here!" _protested Arya. _"He's still ruling them!"_

"_I know, Arya, but we can't discuss any new plans until we meet back up with the others, so for now we should concentrate on staying alive."_

Arya tried to divert her thoughts to other matters. She wondered what was happening in the rest of Alagesia. It was hard to conceive that nobody else would understand the growing darkness; nobody else knew about the rise of the Giants and the quest that was being undertaken to stop it. Still, thought Arya, whatever they thought was happening, it would scare them less than the truth.

Panic would likely be spreading. The leader of the riders was missing, the rest of the order had fallen silent, and to top it all off this unnatural darkness was growing ever stronger. Arya couldn't say for sure, but she didn't think that anything like this had happened in recorded history—it had likely not happened, in fact, since the last war with the Giants.

The dwarves would be affected the most; they would likely be piling all their worldly possessions to appease a being who was, in fact, imprisoned and powerless.

"_Just think," _said Firnen, in a voice that told her that he was about to say something to make her uncomfortable, _"If they knew who we were, they'd worship us." _That thought almost made Arya squirm, but she could tell the idea was rather appealing to Firnen's draconic pride.

"_Us?" replied Arya playfully. "I don't think so; I'm the half-god here."_

"_And I'm your Dragon." _He replied, making a rumbling sound in his throat; his equivalent of laughter. _"Meaning that when you rejected their praise and told them to go away, I would benevolently allow them to accept me as the next-best thing." _

Noon came and went; and as the light once again began to dim the storm continued to get worse and worse. The roaring wind was battering them from all sides, and Arya's energy was getting ever lower from maintaining the spell that kept the rain off her. She lay low against Firnen's back and concentrated on conserving her energy, but by mid-afternoon she was still exhausted.

Firnen, meanwhile, had it even worse. Though he continually denied her offers to assist him, he was barely managing to keep them aloft with the wind assaulting him as if it were determined to knock him out of the sky. Thorn was faring a little better due to his increased weight and strength, but not by much. Arya looked down. The trees below them were beginning to thin, but the edges of the forest would still have been several hours of flying away even under ideal conditions.

"_We have to land." _Said Murtagh eventually. _"The storm's only getting stronger."_

Thorn sent them all a mental snort. _"As I have already explained to my rider, I am perfectly capable of reaching the edge of the forest by sundown."_

"_As am I." _Agreed Firnen.

"_I don't doubt either of you." _Said the Murtagh exasperatedly, though Arya was sure that he, like herself, knew that the Dragons were being pushed to their limits. _"But if more Giants come for us in this weather I don't fancy our chances of fighting them off, and it's only going to get worse."_

"_I agree." _Said Arya. _"You two have done enough for today. You will need to have as much of your strength as possible if the Giants come back." _

Arya felt her Dragon's reluctance through their link; he had braved worse storms in their initial journey and it would hurt his pride to give into this one. However, she knew he also understood Murtagh and Arya's side of the argument.

Firnen sent them a mental sigh. _"Very well." _He said.

"_If I must." _Agreed Thorn.

"_There's a clearing down there." _Said Murtagh, pointing to a break in the canopy. Thorn angled down towards it, with Firnen close behind.

The two Dragons landed with some difficulty, having to fight against the ever more powerful gusts that blew them this way and that. Thorn got down first, being much heavier, and Firnen managed to land only a few moments later.

"Well," said Murtagh, dismounting, as Arya did the same, "I suggest we move into the trees. Admirable as our Dragons' abilities to become tents may be, we'd best not have our movements restricted to the space under their wings for the rest of the day."

They moved into the forest, and Arya felt an immediate jolt of relief as the energy drain caused by her wards instantly subsided to what felt like almost nothing by comparison. "What now then?" she asked.

"We wait for the others. We might as well make ourselves useful and set up camp; Angela will kill us if we don't have everything ready by the time she gets here." He replied, detaching Thorn's saddlebags and laying his spear beside them. "I'll go collect some firewood, you see if you can't find enough in our packs to feed all of us once the others get back."

"Alright then." Said Arya. "If you run into trouble, shoot some sparks in the air or something."

"Not a bad idea." He said. "I'll remember that one. Do you mind if I say I came up with it?" and without waiting for an answer, he strode off.

Arya found enough from their combined supplies to put together a fairly large amount of vegetable stew. Murtagh returned shortly afterwards, his arms laden with firewood, then made another trip to make sure they had an ample supply. With a single snort, Thorn set the pile of wood on fire, and before long they had a sizeable pot of stew slowly cooking over it.

"_I must hunt."_ Said Firnen after a while. _"I feel as though I could eat a herd."_

Arya shook her head mentally. _"The storm is too dangerous." _She said, and right on queue a powerful gust of wind penetrated the canopy, accompanied by the boom of thunder overhead. _"You'll be knocked out of the sky."_

"_Then I will hunt on foot." _He said. _"It will be a good challenge."_

"_There's no sense in you going out alone in any case." _she argued. _"If the Giants catch you by yourself-"_

"_I am quite capable of taking care of myself, Arya." _He said, sounding a little affronted. _"But Thorn wishes to hunt as well." _

Arya sighed. _"Very well." _She said.

Firnen snorted. _"You say that as if you could have stopped me." _And with that he and Thorn left.

There was a slightly tense silence around the campfire. Arya was almost certain they were thinking about the same thing: their three friends. Had they truly escaped those Giants? Had they been made prisoners, or worse? And even if they were alive and free, would they really be able to find them?

The thought of losing them was an extremely painful one; the father who had always been loving and caring to her, and the one who had fulfilled that role after the aforementioned had died, or whatever it was that happened to him. Losing them both had been horrible, and the idea of losing them again so soon after they had returned was unbearable. She knew she'd even be sorry if they lost Angela, as trying as she had always been.

"I'm sure they'll be fine." Murmured Murtagh, voicing both of their thoughts in a brave attempt at his usual optimism. "We are talking about the dwarven gods here, after all."

"Our enemies are gods too." Said Arya darkly. "And two of the dwarven gods have already been killed at their hands once."

Murtagh nodded, his face finally forced to accept a grim expression. "Well," he said, "at least we can be sure we'll always have Angela. She's indestructible."

Arya's lips curled into a small smile. "Agreed." Another long silence followed. The storm continued to pick up, with the howling of the wind and the vigorous rustling of the pine trees periodically drowned out by deafening booms of thunder as the level of light continued to drop. It seemed like night now, though Arya knew it must only be late afternoon above the clouds.

"I'm still getting used to it all." Said Murtagh eventually. Arya cocked her head. "I mean," he continued, "all those people we thought we knew...we had no idea who they really were, did we?"

"That's not the scariest part." Murmured Arya. "We didn't know ourselves, either."

By now Arya's mental link with Firnen was faint, but she concentrated hard on it, waiting fearfully for the moment when she would feel a spike of pain. In the growing darkness with the foreboding clouds looming over them it was all too easy to think that he could have been caught by surprise by a group of Giants...

Arya stood up and strode to the pot of stew. Dipping a ladle in, she took a small sip; it was just about ready. The others surely should have been back by now...

Gradually, her mentally link with Firnen became stronger again. "Any trouble?" she asked when he was close enough.

Firnen gave her a mental nod. _"Yes. I hate being confined to the ground like this—it's demeaning. We did manage to catch two deer though—we thought you'd prefer it if we didn't bring them back."_

"_Thank you." _She said grudgingly. Though she'd been worried, she appreciated that Firnen was avoiding eating his kills in front of her.

Soon enough the two Dragons were back, and Arya could immediately sense that Firnen was better off after getting his fill of food.

Suddenly, Arya's acute hearing picked up a distant clamour of sound: bangs, yells, and the distinctive metallic ring of blades clashing. Arya had enough experience in war to know those sounds instantly—they were the sounds of battle.

At once, she leapt to her feet. Murtagh looked at her quizzically, but did the same—being human, he didn't have senses as strong as hers, despite his magical powers.

"There's a fight going on." She said, her voice instinctively low though the fighting was clearly a fair way off. "That way." She said, pointing in the general direction of the sounds.

"Let's go then." Said Murtagh in a low voice, and he began running at a fair speed for his human capabilities. Thorn followed immediately behind him, making considerably more noise as he crashed through the undergrowth.

"Stop!" Arya said, running up to meet them. "Let me take a look. We need to know what's happening, and Thorn and Firnen—respectfully—would blow our cover; I'm sure those Giants can hear just as well as I can if not better."

"_Then we'll fly." _Said Thorn determinedly, snorting at the idea of being left behind.

Arya shook her head. _"The storm's too strong! I'm the fastest runner—I'll scout it out. I'll be back soon, just hang on!" _and with that she set off at a flat-out sprint so that not even the Dragons would be able to catch her in the midst of all the trees.

Arya managed an impressive speed even for an elf, and within two minutes she had reached a point where the battle could only be a few metres away, and it was moving towards her. She retreated to the edge of the clearing she now stood on and lay on her belly, whispering a spell to make herself almost invisible.

Seconds later, several figures burst into the clearing. In front was Evandar, who had an arrow nocked on his great bow with the string half-drawn. Next came Angela, on whom Oromis was leaning heavily. When the three of them had made it into the middle of the clearing, Evandar spun on his hells, dropped to his knees and pulled the string back all the way. A second later, a band of Giants charged in, their weapons raised.

Evandar loosed his arrow and shot the leader clean through the chest, it went straight through and continued to cleave a young tree in two. He shot a second faster than Arya had ever seen anyone else do so, but when he pulled his hand back to nock another, he found his quiver empty. Fast as lightning, he whipped out two long, curved hunting knives and leaped to his feet.

Angela lowered Oromis, who was looking pretty severely hurt, to the ground, and held her sword-staff in a ready position.

"_They're here!" _yelled Arya to Firnen. _"Come quickly!"_

Firnen sent her a mental nod, and she faintly sensed him contacting Murtagh and Thorn. In just over a second, the Giants had reached the others.

Evandar blocked downwards slash from a fiery longsword with one knife while using the other to stab its holder. The Giant cried out in pain and staggered backwards, and Evandar crossed his arms and took his head off with a single sweep.

Meanwhile, Angela was blocking a flurry of attacks with the haft of her sword-staff, spinning around to dispatch her enemies whenever she got the chance. Though the witch's assault was fierce, the Giants quickly began to push her back towards Oromis, whom she was trying to protect.

Without any more thought, Arya swept her sword out of its scabbard and charged. The fiery light which Tamerlain shone with rendered her invisibility spell quite obsolete though, and with a wave of his hand the nearest Giant swept away the enchantment. Arya jumped towards him, her sword held above her shoulder, and swinging his sword around in a wide arc, the Giant met her attack with all his force, their swords colliding with a brilliant burst of energy.

The force of the impact bent Arya's sword arm behind her head, but she skidded forwards on her knees, so that the ethereal weapon slid right up to Tamerlain's tip. With lightning speed, she disengaged, bought Tamerlain around her body and slashed her enemy through his midriff, then jumping to her feet and dispatching him with a quick thrust.

"Nice of you to drop by!" yelled Angela, as Arya began to duel a Giant who had been attacking her, both of their swords a blur of liquid light, generating a bright flash every time they met. "But where's the rest of the welcoming party?"

"On their way!" said Arya, as Angela stabbed the Giant the half-elf was fighting while his back was turned, sending crackling lightning through his vapoury form.

Arya tried to get to the three other Giants who Angela was barely holding off, but was distracted by another who flanked and attempted to get at Oromis. The Giant pulled his spear back, ready to stab the elf, but Arya swung her blade into it as hard as she could, knocking it out of the way.

The Giant retaliated with a thrust to her heart, but she spun out of the way with lightning speed and followed up with a jab, which he knocked aside in a shower of fiery sparks. They circled around each other, exchanging blows until the Giant had his back to Oromis.

Arya went for a wide slash, but seeing the opening the Giant aimed a kick at her chest and knocked her backwards through the air, flying several metres before landing hard on her back. The Giant hefted his spear overhead, a fiery nimbus forming on its tip, but just as he was about to stab there was a burst of brilliant gold light and he vaporized on the spot, revealing Oromis lying behind him, his hand raised.

"I'm not out of the fight yet!" he said to her with a brave smile.

Arya returned the smile, then jumped to her feet and picked up her fallen enemy's spear. Pulling her arm back to throw, she swivelled on her heel and threw it at another Giant who was standing behind Angela, sword raised. It went right into his back, and he fell to his knees with a yell of pain. Hearing the sound, Angela turned around full circle and in one fluid motion took his head clean off.

A moment later, Arya heard a tremendous roar. She turned around to see Thorn, with Murtagh on his back and Firnen by his side, charging into the clearing.

Murtagh dismounted and ran up to assist Arya and Angela while the two Dragons charged towards the group of Giants who were about to overwhelm Evandar. He dived out of the way a fraction of a second before they breathed a torrent of fire on their enemies, both of them unleashing flames that were white-hot.

The two Dragons kept up their stream of flame for several seconds, the roar of the raging inferno audible even over the combined noise of the battle and the storm which continued to rage above. When they relented, only three Giants remained on their feet. With furious roars they charged Evandar. Quick as a flash, he threw his twin knives right between the eyes of two of the Giants, instantly snuffing out their fiery features. Just as quickly as they had had struck, the two knives flew back into his hands, and he decapitated the remaining Giant with one swift stroke.

Faced with the new reinforcements, the Giants still fighting Angela and Arya broke and routed, jumping into the air and flying away as fast as they could. Immediately, Thorn and Firnen kicked off the ground to give chase.

"No!" yelled Evandar. "Don't let them draw you in! They will lead you to their fellows and destroy you."

"_Let them try!" _yelled Firnen to Arya. _"I will incinerate those cowards!" _

"_No!" _said Arya frantically. _"We've won; chasing them would be suicide." _Firnen paused for a moment, conflicted, then reluctantly dropped to the ground, settling for sending a parting blast of fire at the retreating Giants accompanied by a drawn-out victory roar in which he was joined by Thorn.

Arya had other concerns though. Sheathing her sword, she rushed over to Oromis, who was still lying on the ground. Angela was already crouching besides him, her hand on his chest.

As she got closer, Arya saw that Oromis had several wounds, out of which golden light shone. The largest one was what looked like a slash wound in his side.

"What happened?" asked Arya worriedly, joining Arya by his side.

"Got...careless." he muttered weakly. "Let...A giant get under my guard. Got him back for it, though..."

Arya turned to Angela, her face terrified. "You can heal him, can't you?"she said.

Angela nodded, though her expression was concerned. "He should be alright; the wound's not too deep."

Arya looked around. Evandar and Murtagh were meanwhile kneeling by another still form on the ground. Wondering who it could be, Arya walked slowly over to them.

With a jolt of surprise, Arya realized that it was a Giant. He was obviously wounded, being pinned to the ground by Evandar with the tip of Murtagh's spear being pressed against his throat.

"Now." Said Evandar. His voice sounded utterly different; it was devoid of all its usual kindness and as hard as steel. "Let's get this over with, shall we? Tell us everything you know about your little master Dathedr; where he is, how he's guarded—you get the idea."

"You'll get nothing from me, filth!" yelled the Giant, struggling wildly despite his wounds.

Without hesitation, Evandar punched him in the jaw. Once, twice, thrice he slammed his fist into the Giant's vapoury face, each blow generating a small shockwave. After several seconds, the Giant relaxed his pained grimace and simply spat sparks into Evandar's face.

Evandar's expression remained deadly calm. He turned his head slowly to face Murtagh. "Do you want a go?" he asked, his voice polite and courteous.

"Of course." Said Murtagh, his voice full of hate. Turning his spear around, he slammed the butt into the Giant's chest, evicting a loud 'oof' from the prisoner.

"You'll never get anything from me, scum!" the Giant snarled. "The master will destroy you all! Your pathetic king will wither and die! Alagesia will fall! We will rule!"

Evandar's expression further darkened. "The king?" he asked. "What do you know about him? TELL ME!"

"That he is imprisoned." Said the Giant gleefully. "And that he will wither and die!"

Arya's expression hardened. She did not normally approve of torture, but in this case, she made an exception. This being was so obviously evil that she could hold no pity for him—only hate.

"Tie him to a tree." She said grimly.

Evandar nodded without question, rising to his feet. Seeing the opportunity, the Giant tried to spring up, but before he could Evandar waved his hand and he went flying through the air into a sizeable pine trunk. Evandar snapped his finger, and silvery ropes materialized around the Giant, securing him to the tree. He struggled madly, but the ropes held fast.

"_Firnen?"_

"_Yes?" _

"_You said you wanted to incinerate Giants?"_

"_Indeed." _

"_Well, here's your chance. Just don't kill him."_

"_If you insist."_

The emerald Dragon walked up so he stood in front of the Giant, opened his mouth and let loose a torrent of green flame. For several seconds, no sound came from the Giant, but soon enough, screams of pain began to escape him. Quiet and muffled at first, but eventually so loud that they drowned out the sound of the storm above.

"I'LL NEVER TALK!" he managed to yell. "YOU WILL ALL DIE! THE MASTER SHALL RULE!"

"_Stop!" _said Arya. After a few more seconds, Firnen closed his mouth, revealing a charred and flaming trunk and a still-struggling Giant.

"Enough games!" growled Angela. She lowered a now-unconscious Oromis to the floor and grabbed her sword-staff. She walked up to the Giant so she stood only a few feet away.

"Alright." She said, her voice deadly serious, "this is your last chance. Where is your Dathedr, and who is with him?"

She raised her staff so it pointed at him. Lightning bolts shot from the blade into his vapoury form. Slowly, she moved the blade closer and closer, the shocks becoming stronger and stronger as he writhed frantically to escape his ethereal bonds.

"Stop!" he yelled. "Stop! Alright, I'll tell you!"

At once, the shocks ceased, though Angela kept the blade where it was—inches from his heart.

"Well?" said Evandar.

"He's in the main hall in the capital." The Giant said. "It won't help you to know it, though. He's heavily guarded, you'll never get close!" Not just us—there are filthy mortals too. You don't have a chance!"

"Can't you count?" growled Evandar. "I want numbers, come on!"

"I don't know." Spat the Giant. "None of us know the details. I've told you everything I know, I swear!"

For several long moments, there was silence. Then, Evandar waved his hand, and the Giant's form went limp.

"Just unconscious." He said, answering Arya's unspoken question. "He'll come around...eventually."

"More than he deserves." Growled Murtagh. By unspoken consent, they all walked over to Oromis, with Arya and Angela once again crouching by his side.

"He's just resting." Said Angela in answer to the worried expressions of the others. "I've healed his wounds, it just took a lot out of him, that's all."

"We should take him back to our camp." Said Arya. "We've got a meal ready."

"We have _got _to teach you two how to create things for yourselves." Said Angela. "Still, there's no sense in letting a good meal go to waste. Arya, can you show me a memory of your camp?"

Arya obliged. "Alright then." Said Angela. "Hands in, everyone."

Angela grabbed Oromis' limp hand, and Evandar placed his hand on top. Arya and Murtagh mimicked them, and Thorn and Firnen touched their enormous snouts to the spot. There was a burst of light, and a second later they arrived.


	16. Lessons

**Hi guys! Okay, I know this wait is a new low for me. I am really sorry—in my defence, this chapter did require a lot of thought, and I've done more deleting and re-writing for this one than any of the previous ones. **

**This is a training chapter—not too much action, but it does provide some important info that I need to get out, and our heroes need to learn some stuff too. Hope it was worth the wait! **

The fire still burned hot, and a pleasant odour filling the clearing told Arya that the stew was ready. She walked over to their packs and grabbed a small bowl for Oromis, but before she could take it over to him Angela threw her an extremely stern look which quite clearly said '_don't you dare.' _Arya adopted a quizzical expression, but Angela simply walked up to her and grabbed the bowl. Taking the ladle out of Arya's hands, she took a sip.

She stood there for several seconds, apparently examining the taste.

"Does it...need more salt?" asked Arya.

"It could do with a little more taste." she said. "Add more vegetables and boil it some more."

Arya looked at her quizzically. "Well, I'd rather not, considering it's getting colder and colder and we all need some food, especially Oro-"

Angela sighed exasperatedly. "Well, you'll have to do it like a normal person then, won't you?"

Arya frowned. "Well, if you mean use magic to accelerate the process, I suppose I could, but adding more-"

"I mean use your power, Arya." She said, putting her hands on her hips and giving Arya the usual '_you're being exceedingly stupid' _look.

"Well, I've never done anything like that before! I don't know how to-"

"Just _will_ more vegetables to appear and then...concentrate on stewing them! Honestly, it shouldn't be all that hard..."

Arya sighed. Clearly Angela wasn't going to leave her alone about this, so she looked at the bowl and willed more sliced vegetables to appear. She started at the stew intensely for a moment, feeling rather stupid. There was a _pop, _and a whole carrot materialized a few feet away from them and fell to the floor. Angela slapped her hand to her forehead.

"Well," said Arya angrily, "If it's so important, can't you do it?"

Angela shook her head violently, as if this were an outrageous suggestion. "Arya, you have to learn these things! This is a good exercise to help you hone your power. After all, you won't last very long in a fight if you can't do something as simple as this."

_Well, _thought Arya, _I wouldn't call making objects appear out of thin air very simple, _but she decided it wouldn't be worth it to say so. Instead, she tried to focus harder on doing as Angela had asked, and this time succeeded in making the bowl a little more populated.

Angela nodded. "That's a little better, I suppose. Now boil it."

Arya tried to focus on making the vegetables dissolve, and after a few seconds she got a result—the chopped pieces fell apart.

Angela sighed. "Well, maybe we can work on that more later. You might want to try making a physical movement though—it can help."

"A physical movement?" asked Arya. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, just snap your fingers or wave your hand or something. If nothing else, it's a lot more dignified than staring at a bowl of stew."

Evandar walked over to her with a smile. "For once, she's actually right, you know." He waved his hand , and instantly the stew became much thicker and as hot as it had been before Angela had intercepted her. "Don't worry, it comes with practice."

"I'll go and make the rest of it a little more edible." Said Angela, walking over to the pot. Arya took the long-overdue bowl to Oromis, and Evandar followed behind her.

"Did Angela ambush you and give you a forced lesson, eh?" he asked with a small smile. Arya nodded, returning the smile as she handed him the bowl. "Don't you listen to her, she's no expert herself, believe me..."

"I heard that!" said Angela indignantly. "If you'd rather have the culinary delight that these two managed to whip up, just say so!"

"Ah, come on Angela, be reasonable." Said Evandar. "He was only talking about that time with those mushrooms."

"Well, for your information, I had no way of knowing that they weren't the ones with the healing properties!"

"What are they talking about?" whispered Arya to Oromis.

"Oh," he said with a laugh, "that was hilarious. You see, Angela found these mushrooms, and-"

"You know, this staff of mine can hurt." Said Angela with a grin, coming to sit next to them.

"Better not risk it." Said Evandar. "Don't worry Arya, we'll tell you when she's not around, eh?"

"Well, I'd like to hear, too!" said Murtagh, who had been having a silent conversation with his dragon on the other side of the clearing. He and Thorn came to join them, as did Firnen. Arya settled against her dragon's back and began to eat without further words—though she would never admit it, Angela had done a fairly good job with the stew.

With a wave of his hand, Evandar caused a bubble of energy to appear above them, and both the rain and the wind instantly stopped. He then pointed at the ground, and it became suddenly warm and dry.

"You _really _have to teach me how to do that." Said Murtagh, watching as the rain bounced off the barrier.

"There are a great many things we need to teach you how to do." Said Oromis. They sat there for a while in a comfortable silence as they each started on their meals.

It was Murtagh who broke the silence. "Thorn and I were just discussing our little chat with that Giant." He said. "Are you sure we asked him enough? What if he'd known more, like, where Eragon and your king are?"

Evandar shook his head. "All that Giant would have done if we'd have kept questioning him would be attract attention. It wouldn't have been worth it. Trust me when I say Faolin, and all his lieutenants, give their subordinates as little information as possible. Something like the location of your friend and our king—I would be very surprised if even Dathedr knows that."

"But you're going to try and get it out of him anyway." Guessed Arya.

Evandar nodded. "Right now he's our best lead; hopefully we can get some information from him that'll be useful."

"So, what's the plan?" asked Murtagh. "Do we just...what's that instant travel thing called again?"

"Teleportation." Supplied Angela.

"Right. Do we just teleportate-"

"Teleport." Corrected Angela.

"Fine, _teleport _into the main hall and put a sword to his throat?"

Evandar shook his head. "I wish it were that simple. Firstly, there are ways to block people from teleporting to a place. It's hard to explain, but the best way I can put it without going into too much detail is that it's a sort of fog that will make you lose your way, often with disastrous consequences. It's a basic ward; there's no chance at all Dathedr hasn't used it; we'll have to get in by normal means. Besides that, if we were simply to just pop up there, no doubt we'd be surrounded the moment we arrived."

Arya nodded. "I know the area well. There are some entrances—I'm sure you're aware of them, father—that Dathedr might not know about. Should we try those?"

Evandar shook his head. "_We, _as in, Angela and I, are going to do just that. You, Murtagh, Firnen and Thorn aren't coming, and neither are you, Oromis—you're in no shape for this mission."

Murtagh stood up immediately. "What do you mean, we're not coming? Why not?"

Arya did the same, feeling quite affronted. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I'm talking about you not knowing nearly enough to be able to do this, Arya." Said Evandar levelly. "Being able to survive a retreat is one thing; taking on a heavily fortified position is another. It's far too risky for you to come."

"_I will not hide back here while you two-legs go to battle!" _rumbled Firnen.

"_Nor will I." _Agreed Thorn.

Evandar shook his head again. "Your courage is not in question, and we all know that you wish to fight. However, respectfully, you have much to learn."

"It's not like you'd fit through all these secret tunnels anyways." Said Angela.

"How can you say that?" asked Arya. "You need all the help you can get!" Murtagh nodded vehemently.

Evandar nodded. "Aye, we do, which is why we cannot risk you getting yourselves needlessly killed." Said Evandar gravely.

"There'll be plenty of time for that later." Agreed Angela, causing Arya's mouth to twitch despite her best efforts to keep it set in a frown.

"Arya." Said Oromis, his voice calm and level as it always was. "You'll need more training if you intend to continue this quest. We can use this time—I'll be able to teach you and Murtagh some of the things you need to know."

"Oromis is right." Said Evandar. "You would always have needed training—this is a good time to start."

"But-"

"Besides, Oromis cannot go into battle any more than you can right now." Said Angela, cutting her off. "He has to be protected, and it will take all five of you to hold off the Giants if they come."

Arya sighed. She knew Angela was right, as usual: they couldn't simply leave Oromis. From the resigned look on Murtagh's face he was thinking the same—they had to stay.

"_This is intolerable." _said Firnen to Arya. _"We should fight!"_

"_I know, Firnen," _said Arya with a mental sigh _"But we can't just leave Oromis here alone."_

"_Does he really need all four of us to protect him?"_

Arya sent him a mental nod. _"Yes, I think so. We barely escaped them last time."_

"_Then I hope the old man can teach us some ways to improve the situation." _Said Firnen. _"Because if we cannot attack this place, what good will we do when we have to infiltrate Faolin's own den?"_

Arya sent him a mental nod. _"I know."_

Evandar smiled. "Well then! We'll go into Ellesmera and see if we can get into Tialdari hall. We'll bring Dathedr back here if we can. If we're not back by nightfall...whenever that is...get out of here."

Oromis nodded. "Good luck." He said.

"Kill some Giants for me." Said Murtagh.

"And keep yourselves safe!" added Arya.

"Not dying is good." Agreed Angela. She grabbed Evandar's hand and in a flash of light they were gone.

Arya stared at the spot where they had vanished for several seconds, with a horrible suspicion that she would never see them again. Oromis broke the silence:

"Well, let's get started then!" he said, pulling himself into a sitting position with a slight groan. "First; Firnen and Thorn. As I'm sure you have realized, it is extremely difficult for you to do much damage to the Giants with your normal flames. To be truly effective against them, you must imbue the fire with more magic than is natural—unenchanted fire will not hurt a Giant. Being dragons, your fire is already enchanted to a degree, but the stronger the enchantment, the more powerful the flame. Now, there is no easy way to learn this. The only real way for you to do so is similar to the way mortals will teach beginner magicians—for you to be faced with a situation which will require you to achieve your goal, which, due to the nature of your magic, you should eventually accomplish."

He waved his hand, and two small boulders appeared on the ground, both of them glowing and sparkling with a strange energy. "These stones are warded—the only way for you to destroy them will be to use heavily enchanted fire. You must simply keep concentrating on your need to destroy the stone until you manage to do so, but do not worry if you don't get the hang of it at first—only a few dragons in history have mastered this technique. Fortunately, one of them was Glaedr, and with your permission I shall give you some of his memories on the matter."

Both dragons nodded their heads, and Oromis shared the memories. They made no sense to Arya, but Firnen seemed to interpret the jumbled thoughts and feelings to some degree. "Now." Oromis said. "Give it a go!"

Firnen and Thorn took their positions in front of their respective stones, and began to breathe fire. The torrents of emerald and ruby flame totally obscured their targets, but when both dragons paused to inspect the damage, none had been done.

"Keep trying." Said Oromis. "Don't be discouraged, it will take some time."

He turned to Murtagh and Arya. "Well." He said. "I'm afraid that there are a multitude of things you will need to know and there's not nearly enough time for you to learn them all, but I shall do my best. Probably the most important thing for you to learn right now is how to materialize some basic supplies—food, water, fire, shelter and such. If you continue to be reliant on the resources around you then you will be at a severe disadvantage. We'll start with the easiest things—some simple travelling biscuits. Give it a try."

Murtagh went first. He pointed at the ground and adopted a strained expression, clearly concentrating with all his might. After a few seconds, there was a small explosion, which left behind multitude of crumbs and fragments.

"Not a bad first try." Said Oromis encouragingly. "Don't worry, it takes practice for everyone. Arya, why don't you try?"

Arya took several seconds to focus her mind on what she needed to do, then snapped her fingers. There was a flash of light and several fragments appeared in the space in front of her and fell to the ground.

Oromis smiled. "Not bad either! Keep going."

They continued to repeat the process until Oromis was satisfied with their achievements—Arya had fared slightly better, managing to make a relatively intact stack of biscuits, while Murtagh was still only managing to produce one. Arya knew that, despite his abilities, Murtagh had much less experience focusing his mind than she did, and, while there was very little difference between their experience in tapping into their new found power, Arya's extensive mental training made it a little easier for her.

"Okay, that's enough." He said. "Now, try creating a plate."

They both complied, and though it took them several attempts to get it right, they soon each held a decent-sized plate.

Oromis nodded. "Good! Now, try to materialize the biscuits onto the plate."

Getting the biscuits to appear where she wanted proved much more difficult than Arya had suspected, and all the while she couldn't help thinking that they were wasting their time. It was Murtagh however who voiced their concerns.

"Oromis, why are we doing this? As you said, we haven't got much time, and surely we'd be better off learning how to fight the Giants."

Oromis shook his head. "That would be like teaching a magician the words of death before they could create fire or break a branch. You must have a basic feel for how to use your powers before I can teach you anything useful about fighting with them."

Murtagh frowned, and Arya had a sneaking suspicion that the first words in the ancient language he'd learned had been the twelve which induced instant death.

"Besides," said Oromis with a smile, "you're hardly going to beat the hordes of Faolin on an empty stomach."

So they carried on, and after a few more attempts they both managed it.

"Good." Said Oromis. "You're both doing very well. Remember, that the power you are using now comes not from the energy of your mind, but your immortal soul. Sometimes it can help to imagine that power within you, think of it as a physical thing, and then command it to do your bidding. Feel the power flowing through you—this is a matter of instinct and intuition. Now, I want you to materialize both the plate and the biscuits together."

Arya took a few seconds to focus her mind, breathing in and out. She then did as Oromis had suggested: she pictured the energy of her immortal soul as a ball of green light inside her chest. She concentrated on that image for a moment, and then willed it to create the food. There was a loud _bang! _and a mixed-up jumble of broken shards of a plate and biscuit crumbs appeared on the floor in front of her.

"Keep going, you'll get it." Said Oromis. "Now, Murtagh, you try."

It took them both multiple attempts to master the skill of creating two things at once, but they eventually managed it, with a few memorable failures, one of which involved half a plate nearly landing on Oromis' head, a problem which he resolved by zapping it into nothingness with a lazy snap of his fingers.

Meanwhile, the two dragons continued their attempts to conjure enchanted fire. Still though, both their stones remained untouched, and Arya could sense Firnen's frustration glowing.

"_We have destroyed several Giants without even attempting to do this." _He snarled. _"What he wants is impossible."_

Arya sent him a mental sigh—the more she continued trying to form a plate of biscuits out of thin air, the more she sympathised with her dragon. _"I know, but we should trust Oromis. Besides, what he is asking you to do is by nature very difficult; dragon magic is very hard to use at will."_

"_From what I've seen," _he said, _"It took Glaedr a very long time to be able to do so."_

Arya mentally shrugged. _"This is better than no training at all, I suppose."_

"_Not by much." _Growled Firnen, snorting in exasperation as yet another blast of flame failed to touch the enchanted stone.

Apparently sensing his discomfort, Oromis turned to Firnen. "Keep at it, Firnen. I have been monitoring the amount of magic you have been putting into your fire, and it is already a fair bit above what most of your kind are able to produce. The situation is the same with you Thorn—you are both doing well. I know that patience is not exactly a virtue of your kind, but you must try to be persistent."

"Now." He said, turning back to Murtagh and Arya. "I want you to create another essential for me—a fire. Often, collecting firewood will have you wandering away from camp—a significant risk when fighting an enemy which uses teleportation. First, it will probably be best to create a pile of wood, and then set it on fire."

Despite herself, Arya sighed. "Oromis, respectfully—is all this necessary? I understand that we must understand the basics before moving onto other techniques, but, as you have already said, our time is limited. Wouldn't now be a prudent time to move on?"

Oromis shook his head with a smile. "You know, you remind me very much of Eragon when I was instructing him in mortal magic—always so impatient, eager to take every shortcut to gain greater skill in battle to fulfil his feeling of responsibility. I am not doing this for no reason, Arya—I can teach you much about fighting, but not until you have some basic skills. These exercises are designed to give you those, with the added bonus of making things much more convenient for you wherever your travels should take you. Please, trust my judgement. I know what I'm doing."

So they proceeded to continue practising, first creating a fire, then attempting to conjure a tent. The longer they continued though, the more Arya could feel her energy drop, and she could tell from the expression on Murtagh's face he was starting to struggle as well.

Sensing their weariness, Oromis raised his hand. "I think that will be enough conjuration. Sit down and rest a while—you too, Firnen and Thorn, you've done enough for now."

"_I do not call 'nothing' 'enough.'" _Said Firnen. _"I can continue." _

Oromis shook his head. _"You will not manage this if your strength gets too low. Please, if you wish to achieve your goal, it is important that you rest." _

Reluctantly, Firnen strode over to where the others were standing, and, after giving his rock one last parting blast of fire, Thorn followed suit. Arya leaded against her dragon's warm belly, grateful for the respite.

The light continued to fade, but their protective bubble seemed to be having an effect on it. The usual murky darkness did not encroach beyond its boundaries, and the night chill was not present. That reminded her of what Murtagh had been saying about the recent darkness being linked to the Giant's power.

"Oromis," said Arya, "Murtagh has a theory about all this unnatural weather we've been having. Well, I'll let you explain it." She said, turning to the red rider.

Murtagh nodded. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask you about that. It just seems to me that this weather is getting worse and worse, and it has an...evil feel to it. I know it must be connected to the return of the Giants in some way, but I was wondering...does it mean that they are growing stronger?"

Oromis looked thoughtful. "That," he said, "is something Angela, Evandar and I have been discussing quite extensively. You are right—this darkness is linked to the growing power of the Giants, but it is more than a by product. It is, rather, a characteristic of a very great dark power which is tightening its grip on the land—a sort of enchantment, as best we can tell. The fact you have lost contact with New Vrorengard has confirmed our suspicious, but we wished to see about this search party of yours before we told you anything."

"Well," said Murtagh, "If you plan to do so now, by all means, get on with it." His tone was abrasive, but Arya could understand why—yet another thing the Grey Order had been hiding from them.

"I intended to." Said Oromis, with no change whatsoever in his voice—he apparently never sounded offended. "Alagesia has been blockaded. No communications, and no teleportation."

Murtagh's face grew heavy. "So...no reinforcements?"

"Even less than that." Said Oromis grimly. "Aleala is not even aware of the situation."

Arya's anger once again flared. "How could you let this happen?" she asked. "Wouldn't it have been a good time to contact your people when, for example, Galbatroix had taken over the entire land?"

"Patience, Arya. I am getting to it. Contrary to popular belief, we have been around for quite a long time, have experienced numerous rather large wars, and do, in fact, know what we're doing." Arya scowled but said nothing.

"As you know, the first we knew of the Giants returning was when Galbatorix took over your land. At first, we thought him to simply be a mortal magician, and by the time we found out what he really was, he already had us on the run."

Arya and Murtagh nodded.

"Now, at the time, our king was back in Aleala. We sent word to him of our situation immediately. Evandar, Angela and I discussed the situation with him extensively. Eventually, though, it was decided that he would remain in Alelea."

"So, he abandoned you, and the people of Alagesia?" asked Arya hotly. She was starting to wonder if this king of theirs was much worth saving.

Oromis shook his head. "Actually no; it took all three of us to convince him that he should not come to our aid. And before you start shouting at me for that, please note that if we had not made that decision, the war would likely be over by now. You see, we had every reason to believe that this was merely a diversionary attack. If fourteen Giants had returned, we had every reason to suspect-correctly, might I add—that their master had returned also. The fact that the attack was a relatively small one was actually quite a prudent move on his part. We believe that his greatest hope would be that we would respond in full force, leaving Aleala open for the taking. However, he also knew that if we did not do so, he would still have the chance to destroy us, the Order, who would be his greatest threat in a war against Alaela. Therefore, the king stayed behind, and we remained here."

"But," said Arya, "there were thirteen Giants, and they were certainly powerful enough to disperse father, or whatever you call it. Wouldn't it have been wise to bring in at least a few reinforcements?"

Oromis shook his head. "If we looked like we were likely to win in Alagesia, it may well have forced Faolin to re-double his assault. Apart from that in turn forcing us to further weaken Alaela's defences, it might also cause huge damage to the races of Alagesia—something we would prefer to avoid. We still did not even know if Faolin truly had returned, though we thought it extremely likely, but my point is we wanted to gather more information on the situation before we made a move that could lead to open war. Therefore, we made the choice to fight a guerrilla war against Galbatorix, keeping mortal resistance alive, and slowly weakening his forces. The only time either side used their full powers was when we met in one-on-one combat, and even when we did manage to kill one of his Giants, Galbatorix would make sure that the mortals thought it had been done by a freedom fighter; Brom for example—it would have been disastrous for him if the mortals knew our true identities. As I'm sure you're about to point out, it meant that Galbatorix achieved 100 years on the throne and that many in Alagesia suffered for it, but please believe me when I say it was the least of the evils we were facing."

"_I hope you are right." _Said Firnen, speaking to all of their minds, his mental voice hard and grim. _"My race almost became extinct because of your decision."_

"_And you have no idea how much we regret that loss." _Replied Oromis. _"We do not, however, regret our decision. For if we had chosen differently, it is quite likely that your race would be gone utterly from the world, and that the race of your rider, along with all the other peoples of Alagesia would be enslaved to Faolin. For even if we had been able to hold off his assault in Alagesia, the consequence would likely have been his conquest of _Alaela, and if Alaela falls, the world falls."

There were several moments of grim silence before Oromis continued his tale.

"As you know, during the late stages of the war, I too lost my mortal form." He said; Murtagh looked instantly ashamed. "At the hands of the Giant Galbatorix." He finished kindly.

"With only Angela now left to oversee the battle, Guntera was forced to return to Alagesia. The war was eventually won, of course, but fearing another attack, he remained while Evandar and I regained our physical forms and rebuilt our strength."

"So," said Arya, in spite of herself, "he conveniently came in after 100 years of warfare right when it was all about to end?" Whatever Oromis said about him truly wanting to come and fight, the fact was he hadn't, and Arya wasn't feeling very well disposed towards him for that.

For the first time, Arya saw true anger appear on Oromis' features. "If you knew him as I do, you would not even think such things. Do not judge a man who you have never met for making a decision that you do not understand!"

Arya was truly taken aback—she had never heard him, as an Alaelan or elf, speak in a truly angry tone before.

"My apologies." She said. If Oromis truly did think so highly of this man, then perhaps it wasn't a good idea to criticise him—at least until she had questioned his Royal Highness on the matter personally. Her resentment did not just stem from what Oromis had just told her—he had clearly ordered Evandar, Oromis and Angela not to even divulge his name to her, and it made her feel as though he was hiding something from her even before they had met.

"_I agree." _Said Firnen. _"I'd like very much to know more about this king of theirs—I'd say he owes us that, as we are on a mission to rescue and all all."_

"Anyway," said Oromis, his voice back to its usual calm self, "Evandar and I soon did regain our physical forms. Guntera was once again preparing to leave Alagesia, but first we set about consolidating—you weren't the only one looking around the far corners of Alagesia, Murtagh. I don't think he liked the idea of leaving Alagesia in bad shape, as he did, I think, agree with you Arya, in that he was quite responsible for the sorrows which have befallen the land in the last century. However, as you might have guessed, it was at this point he was taken. We attempted to contact Alaela immediately, but the trap had been sprung—we couldn't get through to them. Evandar tried to carry the message himself, and wouldn't have survived if not for his considerable skills. The fact Faolin was able to cast this evil enchantment is unnerving in itself. It is not something we would have thought to be within his power to do."

And on that ominous note, he finished. And for the long moments of grim silence that followed, Arya could have sworn that the walls of energy which kept out the murky darkness and biting wind were weakened.

"I know you've already eaten," said Oromis, finally breaking the long quiet with a brave attempt at sounding upbeat, "But these should help you to feel a little better after all the work you've been doing. They don't taste bad, either—I don't know anyone who doesn't like them."

He waved his hand, and two plates of fruit appeared in front of Murtagh and Arya. Each fruit was about the size of a fist, and shone with what Arya could only liken to starlight.

"I've been sampling your cuisine for a good few thousand years now; it's only fair you return the favour."

Slowly, Arya raised one to her mouth and took a cautious bite. It tasted like nothing she'd ever eaten before—incredibly sweet and juicy.

"Mmmmh." Said Murtagh. "What is this?"

"It's delicious." Agreed Arya.

Oromis smiled. "I do hope so—I invented it."

Arya frowned. "You _invented _it?"

He nodded. "It doesn't grow on any tree or bush—I deliberately created them for a feast. We'd just won the war—the first war, that is. Angvard was overthrown, the rebellion had won, and of course, we wanted to celebrate. I wanted something new and different for the victory feast, to symbolize a fresh start, and this is what I came up with."

Arya shook her head in wonder. She knew the Grey Folk had extraordinary powers, but creating a whole new food was quite beyond anything she had imagined.

"Wow." Said Murtagh, voicing her thoughts precisely.

Oromis smiled. "I wish you could have seen it—your party over the downfall of Galbatorix wouldn't have even come close. I remember dancing and singing—ah, we were all so young then. Anyway, back to the present, lest I bore you to death with an old man's reminiscence. Arya, I have noticed that in the heat of battle you managed to enchant your weapon—that's what that was, by the way. No small achievement, either. May I see the sword?"

Arya drew Tamerlain, which still shone with ethereal light, and passed it to Oromis. He took it by the hilt and ran his hands across the blade for several seconds, his face tight with concentration. He then placed the sword on the ground with a nod.

"Not bad for an unintentional enchantment, especially a first try. You have definitely imbued the sword with a fair amount of power. Still though, if you don't mind me saying, it is a crude measure. I would certainly prefer to have a real weapon forged for you, but alas, we are far from the smiths of my land. I can, however, strengthen the enchantment.

He closed his eyes, and placing both hands on the blade, began to mutter under his breath in a language Arya did not recognize. After a few seconds of this, he handed the sword back to Arya. At first, there was no difference, but as soon as she took the hilt she felt a great surge of power up her arm.

"There." He said. "A weapon to match the blades of Faolin's hordes."

Arya gave Tamerlain an experimental swing, and the blade hummed with power.

"_Now you truly do have a god's weapon." _said Firnen seriously. _"The great Arya, finally living up to her position. Gannel would be so proud." _

"_Eugh." _Said Arya with a mental smile.

"And Murtagh," said Oromis, "you have yourself a Giant's weapon, I see. Reasonably effective, but you are more used to a sword, no? Pass me your sword."

Murtagh handed him Za'roc, and Oromis proceeded to cast his enchantments upon the blade. When he was finished, it produced the same ethereal glow that Arya's did.

"Right." He said. "I think it's time to get back to it, then!"

Arya looked up at the ever darkening sky. Though their energy bubble protected them from its ill effects, it was nevertheless rapidly increasing in magnitude.

"Shouldn't the others be back by now?" she asked worriedly.

Despite himself, Oromis' face was concerned. "There is still an hour or so before dark." He said. "Evandar will have that Giant; we've got to give him more time."

**More than one reference this chapter, and none of them are quite so obvious as previous ones. Still, they're all from something I doubt any of you have not seen, and all my fellow hopeless nerds have likely already picked them out! **


	17. The Rescue

**Hi guys, and welcome back to The Hidden God! Wow, I can't believe that we're at 17 chapters now! Where has the time gone? The good news is I seem to be coming out of my writer's block recession—I've managed to work on this pretty regularly for the last two weeks, and the result is yet another 'longest chapter' record broken! **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, I think it's the first one in a while that I can honestly say I'm quite pleased with. I'm really getting back into this story now it's coming to its climax; lately I've had writer's block to deal with, along with a bit of some other projects (some of the readers who've been with me for longer might remember that time when I accidentally posted a part of my prologue for another story and you all thought it was about my life; well, I have done a little work on that, and I know I said I might show it to you, but at this moment I'm not going to, because I'm not happy with it yet.)**

**Also, I've had quite a few people ask me "where is Eragon?" It's a very good question; we're now seventy-something thousand words into a story with his name in the description and he hasn't made one appearance so far. I PROMISE that there will be romance soon, just keep on keeping on there, for those in the audience who have just been along for the romantic stuff this whole time, light is at the end of the tunnel! **

**Also, remember to keep an eye out for a new switching lanes chapter! I'm sure it will come...eventually...I'm not looking at anyone in particular ELEMENTAL... **

**Well, enjoy the chapter! Or hate it! Either way, please tell me all about it with this little button labelled REVEEEEEEEEIW! **

Arya desperately hoped he was right.

The awe she felt at the power of the Grey Order was still fresh in her mind, though it had been dulled by the sheer number of other surprises which had assaulted her since she had met Faolin in Tronjheim. She could understand why the dwarves called them gods—the way they radiated and displayed such obvious power and might meant that it was hard to consider them anything else if you did not know them in person. It was hard to believe that anything could stop them, and yet only hours ago she had seen Oromis struggle into the clearing, wounded so that he could barely walk. It hit Arya in that moment just how much the odds were against her father and Angela—how stupid she had been to let them go without her.

She could see that the others were worried too. Even Oromis, usually so serene and optimistic, showed in his face that he was afraid their friends hadn't succeeded.

Were they captured, or had they already been killed? If so, would they come back, or would they be sufficiently damaged so as to never re-form? Yes, both Evandar and Oromis had managed to return before, but then they had only been 'killed' by mere mortal weapons and magic.

"Well." Said Oromis, quickly composing himself. "Firnen and Thorn, please continue with your exercises. Murtagh and Arya, I suppose I should teach you some combat-related techniques before you both rip my head off, eh?"

Arya managed a small, if half-hearted smile.

"_I wouldn't worry too much about them." _Chimed in Firnen. _"We're talking about the man who punched the king of the Giants in the face and...well, Angela."_

Arya's smile widened a little. She was grateful that her dragon's capacity to make her feel better had never decreased.

"What I want to teach you next are some basic wards." Said Oromis. "Nothing too complex, considering that, as always, our time is limited. The most important of these is probably the one which stops people from teleporting to your position. This can be done in more than one way; used to protect both yourself or a specific area. Both methods can be equally useful."

Murtagh frowned. "How do we cast these wards? Is it like everything else?"

Oromis nodded. "There is no difference in the method of casting, although they will usually require more focus than most other things you have attempted, as they have long-term effects. Both of you try it now—focus on making it impossible for people to teleport into this clearing. Try to create a screen which will stop anybody from passing its boundaries."

Arya took a moment to focus on that thought, gathering her concentration. After a few seconds, she snapped her fingers, throwing all her willpower at the task at hand. A shockwave of green mist flew out from her hand in all directions, and came to settle around the clearing. The mist continued to spread out, dispersing until it was no longer visible. Though Arya had no real idea of how to judge whether or not it had worked, she could sort of sense the enchantment draining away, and while her mind was still unsure, her gut feeling—something she had been rather unwillingly forced to rely on more and more of late—told her that she had failed.

Oromis, however, nodded approvingly. "Not bad." He said. "Initially, the ward was quite powerful, but you need to focus on making it last."

"Your turn, Murtagh." Said Arya.

The red rider obliged, holding his hand out, his face strained with concentration. After several seconds, there was a loud _bang _and the clearing filled with reddish fog.

"Not bad either." said Oromis as Murtagh's enchantment dispersed, a little more quickly than Arya's had. "Okay, Arya, give it another try."

Arya was about to do so when she heard a triumphant roar. Turning around, she saw that Thorn's enchanted boulder was now blackened and scorched.

Oromis smiled. "Well done, Thorn! He said. "Keep going—try to remember what it felt like to conjure the enchanted fire and replicate that sensation. It should be easier now that you have some kind of reference in your own memories.

"_It's intolerable that crimson beast could manage it before me." _ Grumbled Firnen. Arya almost laughed out loud at Firnen's typical draconic pride.

"_Somebody's a sore loser."_

"_I'm sorry, I was of the opinion that you didn't want to be stepped on."_

Arya grinned, both mentally and physically.

"_What are you so happy about?"_

"_Well," _said Arya, _"I was just thinking about how glad I am that however serious the situation is, we will always be able to find reason to argue."_

"'_Argument' suggests that both sides have a chance of winning." _He said, returning her smile.

"_Relax." _She said. _"Thorn's had much more experience and training than you." _

The red dragon's success was as good a motivator for Firnen as any, though, and before long he had also managed to overcome the enchantment on the rock long enough to scorch it with flames.

"_There you go!" _said Arya happily, sharing in her dragon's pride for his achievement. She could sense across their link that both the constant fire-breathing and the sudden burst of magic had drained him, but his elation was more than enough to overcome his weariness and he eagerly continued.

Meanwhile, Oromis had Arya and Murtagh continue to cast their wards. Creating the enchantment was relatively easy—making it stay around for more than a few seconds was not. Try as she might, Arya just couldn't get her ward to linger, and the process of casting it again and again was rapidly draining her. The more she used her new power, the more she began to distinguish between how it took its toll on her as opposed to regular magic. It didn't sap her physical energy—it felt more as though it was draining her of willpower and mental strength.

Murtagh was faring no better than Arya, but Oromis didn't seem concerned. He continued to encourage them, reassuring them that they were indeed making good progress.

"It is essential that you learn this skill." He said. "This is probably the most important thing I will teach you today."

"Well," said Arya with a hint of exasperation, "they have to find us before it becomes a problem. How are they going to know where we are in the first place? I mean, they may have come for us when we arrived here, but that was only because Faolin already expected me and the wards detected us. If we're not in a place like this, how is this technique relevant?"

Oromis shook his head and smiled, just as he always did. "The minds of our people—the Grey Folk and the Giants—work differently to yours. Our mental senses are much more effective. Trust me, it is not difficult for one of us to track another."

Arya frowned. "You said that the cave we originally went to in Tronjheim was warded. Was this ward one of them?"

Oromis nodded. "Of course."

"Then...how come we couldn't see it? I wasn't able to notice any sort of mist around that place."

Oromis smiled. "Indeed. That is because the enchantment, like all of the others on that cave, was hidden to the best of our abilities. Admittedly, one drawback of using wards like this is that they can be quite conspicuous: see a wall of light in the mouth of a cave and you can be quite sure that your enemies are there. I would like to teach you to do this, if we get time, but first you need to learn to cast the ward itself."

And so they practiced. It took them a long time to get it right—making the enchantment "stable," as Oromis had put it, required enormous amounts of concentration. (Enormous for Arya and Murtagh, anyway; in an attempt to give them some point of reference Oromis demonstrated the enchantment with nothing more than a casual flick of the wrist.)

It probably took longer than it normally would have, as though Murtagh and Arya needed to concentrate harder, focus was something that was in increasingly lower supply. It was getting truly dark now; Oromis was forced to illuminate his unusually troubled face with a light source that may have been cast either with a non-verbal spell or the power that was second-nature to him but so hard for Arya and Murtagh to master. Evandar had told them that if he and Angela weren't back by the time it was dark, they should move. They should abandon them and flee. And though none of them said anything, all knew that time had come.

"_Try to focus on casting the ward." _Said Firnen gently. _"It'll take your mind off things."_

"_Since when has that been your attitude?" _Arya snapped. _"'Take your mind off it and do something else?'"_

She knew the answer, even though he did not give it to her—he was just as concerned as her, but didn't want his rider to be worried.

After a few more frustrated attempts, Arya couldn't put it off any longer.

"We have to go in there." She said simply.

Oromis' face did not hold the slightest hint of confusion, and Arya knew his reply was for the sake of stalling only.

"Go where?" he said quietly.

"To Evandar and Angela." Said Arya."To Tialdari hall. Not you, Oromis, you're in no condition for this." She didn't tell Murtagh that he didn't have to go either. The look on his face and all his past deeds told her that she couldn't make him stay if she tried, and frankly, she needed help.

Oromis shook his head. "No." He said. "You can't risk it. Either of you. I shall go."

"By yourself?" asked Arya, her voice incredulous though she wasn't really surprised—she had of course expected him to suggest it. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You two aren't trained." He said levelly.

"And you aren't fit for battle." Arya retorted.

"Arya's right." Said Murtagh. "You get yourself out of here, Oromis. We'll contact you when we know what's happening."

"No." He said. "You two don't stand a chance."

"You can't stop us." Replied Murtagh. Arya let out an exasperated sigh; not audible to anyone but an elf or, probably, an Aelean. She may not be a master among her kind, but she was far more adept than Murtagh when it came to words, and she knew that he had chosen the wrong ones.

"You are mistaken." He said simply. "I can, and if it means preventing your meaningless deaths, then I shall."

Arya's mind worked furiously. She _didn't _want Oromis to go; she was afraid for him. But what could she say?"

"_Nothing." _Firnen interjected simply.

"_What do you mean?" _asked Arya. _"He can't just-"_

"_Go?" _said Firnen. _"I'd say he can, and he can also stop you from doing so if he has a mind to. The fact that you all seem to be underqualified for this job means that the best outcome for all involved seems to be for us all to go."_

Arya sighed. _Dragon logic. _Infallible to the last.

"Fine." She said. "We all go."

"It's still too dangerous for you two." Said Oromis. "I am going alone." Murtagh seemed to be just about to reply with an angry retort, but Arya cut him off.

"We may not be agreeing on much, Oromis, but I think we all want to help Evandar and Angela. You're not serving them very well by denying help."

Oromis smiled. "You are wrong." He said. "I am serving them. They want to ensure your safety."

Arya's eyes flashed. She hated it—being treated like a child who could do nothing for herself. She remembered how Eragon, in his youthful ignorance, had often made the mistake of doing so, but she had never had it from Oromis—not _before. _

"I am not a child!" she yelled.

Oromis shook his head. "No, of course you are not. You are, however, woefully untrained and, at this moment, incapable, through no fault of your own. And you are also important—more important than you could imagine, Arya. As a Half-mortal, you do not have the same security we do. You cannot survive if your mortal form is destroyed. If you knew anything of the measures being taken to protect your life, perhaps you would not be so ready to throw it away."

Arya's rage boiled over. "'If I knew anything of the measures?' I don't know of them because you haven't told me about them, Oromis! Just like you haven't told me the name of the man we're trying to rescue, or any number of other things you're hiding from me!" She breathed heavily in and out for several long moments, trying to regain her composure. "Look." She said. "Angela and Evandar are your friends. All you'll achieve by going alone is your own death. You need us, and you need Firnen and Thorn too."

Ordinarily, Arya wouldn't have said this. Of all the people in that clearing, Firnen was the one she wanted to come the least. But she knew it would be impossible to stop him without trying to restrain him—and she could take some small comfort in the fact he was now a little more proficient in enchanting his fire.

"_I'm glad we're on the same page." _Said Firnen drily.

There was another long silence. Arya could see that Oromis' brain was working flat out.

"It's fine keeping secrets." Said Arya. "As long as there are people left to know them."

That was Arya's trump card. It was a gamble; relying on the fact that Angela, Oromis and Evandar had between them secrets that had to be known but not told. That they knew things that they either intended to reveal when the time was right or not at all—things that were vital to their greater plans but were not to be explained to Murtagh and Arya. It was a big assumption to make, but it seemed logical to Arya—they obviously weren't telling them everything, with good reason or not. Judging by the look on Oromis' face, she had assumed correctly.

He nodded—the resignation and worry on his face were almost enough to give Arya second thoughts. Enough to make her wish she had not put him in such an obviously difficult position; to make her wish she had not forced this clearly painful decision onto him. Almost.

"Very well." He said quietly. "We shall all go. You are right, we must all work together if we are to help Angela and your father. But please, both of you, be careful. You may not see it, but, you are needed. Especially you, Arya."

He sighed unhappily. "Take my hand, then." Without another word, the three of them joined hands, with Firnen and Thorn touching their snouts to the centre point as they always did. Oromis waved his free hand, and Arya saw the golden mist which he had cast upon their clearing become visible and then disperse. There was a flash of light and they were gone.

Arya's feet hit the ground hard, but she managed to steady herself.

"_I think I'm getting used to this." _She said to Firnen.

"_I don't think I will." _Replied the dragon, who had landed with a rather audible _thud. _

Arya had wandered Ellesmera much during her life, and she knew exactly where they were now. They were on the very outskirts of the city; though houses were still scattered around this area of the forest, it was unlikely that anyone would be around to see them materialize. Still though, the place they were headed was for very heavily inhabited, so Arya muttered a quick spell to muffle the sound of the two dragon's heavy footfalls.

Oromis waved his hand; thin golden tendrils of light shot from his palm and wrapped themselves around the feet of the two dragons, slowly fading until they were no longer visible. "That should stop objects they come into contact with from creating sounds as well." He explained in a low voice.

Oromis made a quick motion with his hand, and together, they began to make their way forwards, stopping at every sound they heard. Arya didn't think that the Giant's ethereal forms ever truly made a sound when they came into contact with the earth—Oromis' footsteps were certainly silent. However, that did not stop them from all freezing every time they heard branches rustle or leaves shift.

They found a small path, and began to proceed at a crouch through the undergrowth around it, watching it for any sign of activity. Survival skills in the world of the Grey Folk and Giants may have been be quite different to those in the realm of elves and magic, but the most basic one was apparently common between both of them—stay off the road and out of sight.

Before long they saw an elf, patrolling a small cluster of houses with his pale sword drawn. He wore a grey cloak and a silver mail tunic with the Yawe design embroidered on the surcoat—the attire of the city guard.

Arya would have been immediately able to tell something was amiss even if she had not known about the Giant now ruling the city. Usually, people were everywhere at this time of the day, wandering the forest glades and chatting merrily. Now though, there was nobody but the guard. The colourful lights which littered the city seemed dimmer, too: the darkness was strong here.

Murtagh, Oromis, Arya and the two dragons stood completely still, crouching in the undergrowth. Oromis waved his hand, and suddenly Arya's body disappeared; it was as if she wasn't there. Arya looked around. The others were gone too—they were all invisible. It wasn't the same as normal magic. The usual spells which bend light around an object do work when it is absolutely still, but when the object is in motion a disturbance can be seen. By waving her hand in front of her face, Arya saw that this was not at all the case; they were completely invisible.

The guard looked around the area for a few minutes, then left. Arya felt a mind brush against hers. She threw up her mental defences; the mind was vast and alien, and it took her a few seconds to realize that it was Oromis.

"_I apologize for startling you." _He said, his mental voice somewhat amused. _"I know that we went to great lengths to disguise our minds in the past—the true nature of mine must seem very odd, I suppose. Anyway, he was a real elf, in case you were wondering. This path should lead us into the city. Stay in cover." _He appeared once again, as did the others. Slowly, they continued to follow the path.

As they proceeded deeper into Ellesmera, the houses became more common and closely packed; the elves, however, did not. Nobody was to be seen walking around the gardens or exploring the trees or working on a hobby; all was quiet, except for the occasional guard. The lack of people only intensified Arya's feeling of foreboding—she had the distinct feeling that they were being watched.

After a few long minutes of stalking through the available cover at a crouch, they reached a crossroad. The one that they now took was well-paved and well-trodden, lined with many houses; Arya knew that they'd be running into more and more people from there on out.

As more and more guards continued to pass by, Oromis was forced to cast his invisibility ward again, and they had to rely on their mental senses and hearing to ensure they stayed together. Arya quickly realized that there were many more guards about than usual.

Eventually, one of them noticed a rustling in the bushes—he would not have done so if he hadn't had exceptional perception, even for an elf—and began to walk towards them suspiciously, his sword arm extended, ready to deflect an attack. Arya felt his mind extend outwards to check the clearing and prepared to launch a mental assault. She never got the chance.

Suddenly, two eyes appeared in thin air—Oromis' eyes, but they were glowing with a brilliant golden light. They were only there for a second; their presence a momentary flash. The elf opened his mouth to gasp in surprise, but the sound never reached his lips, and he slumped to the ground. His chest continued to rise and fall, but his eyes had rolled back into his skull.

"_Ah, the things I should teach you if I ever get the time." _Said Oromis, sending both Arya and Murtagh a mental smile. Arya was stunned; there had been no mental attack, no spell cast—a flash of Oromis' eyes and the elf was unconscious. The fact that it took so much more effort for him or any of them to defeat a Giant, the fact that Giants could badly wound a being of such power, really drove home to Arya the difference between the enemy she fought now and the one she had faced in the past.

They proceeded further and further into the city, and yet nobody was out. Night had not long fallen, and yet they did not see a soul save for the ever-increasing number of guards. What had happened during her absence? What had the Giant been up to?

Another elf, a woman this time, came round a bend in the road, and the group stopped still. She was not, however a guard; she wore the simple garb of an ordinary elf. It took Arya a long moment to realize a familiar face, but she did; she was looking at her handmaiden, Tiadel.

"_Oromis!" _said Arya. _"I know that elf-she's my friend!"_

Oromis sent her a quizzical thought. _"What?"_

"_That's my handmaiden, Tia." _Said Arya, speaking quickly to both Murtagh and Oromis now so that the latter would be aware of what's going on. _"She works in Tialdari hall—she might know something!" _

From the way Tia was hurrying, Arya didn't find it hard to believe something was amiss. She had been sent on an urgent errand.

"_Right." _Said Oromis. _"Murtagh, get away from the road, I don't want to risk her bumping into us.. Arya, I'll remove the ward on you in three seconds."_

The time passed, and Tia was right next to Arya when she stopped, her eyes wide, having obviously just seen her queen appear out of this air.

"My lady!" She squeaked. "How did you-what are you doing here? Did you find Eragon?"

"Not yet." Said Arya, and her handmaiden looked crestfallen. "Look, I haven't got time to talk. Is Dathedr in Tialdari hall?"

"Yes! It's a good thing you're back, apparently two spies have just been captured—Arya, what's wrong?"

Arya felt the blood draining from her face. They had been captured. "Spies?" she said frantically. "Where are they?"

"They're in Tialdari hall, I think, I've just been sent-"

"Is Dathedr there?" asked Arya.

"Yes, I think so, he's questioning them, I-"

"Dathedr's not who we thought he is." Said Arya. "Tia, get yourself out of here."

"Dahtedr's a traitor?" asked Tia. "Well, that's not hard to believe, he's been acting very odd lately, there's a curfew and extra guards and everything. If there's going to be some kind of fight, I want to come with you."

"No." Said Arya firmly. "Go, Tia, get far away. That's an order." They were quite close to Tialdari hall now, and Arya knew that a fight with the Giants would likely mean a great deal of destruction.

Tia tried a different angle. "Arya, I am sworn to-"

"Provide for and serve me." Said Arya, cutting her off. "Not fight my battles. You are, however, obliged to follow my orders. Get to safety."

"No, Arya, I'm not going to-"

But she didn't complete her sentence. Oromis' eyes flashed gold, though not so bright this time, and Tia slumped to the ground.

Murtagh and Oromis became visible again and both walked up to Arya, their faces full of the same concern that Arya felt. "She won't be out for long," said Oromis, "but she'll be out of the way. Now, we need a plan to get in there."

"I say we disguise ourselves as elven guards." Said Murtagh.

"Agreed." Said Oromis after a moment. "The Giants will likely sense our deception, but it should at least be enough to get us past the perimeter guards." He waved his hand. Arya saw a nimbus of golden light shoot from his palm right into her face, and then an odd tingling spread through her body down to her toes. With another flick of his wrist, Oromis conjured a mirror for each of them, which flew towards them and came to a stop hovering in front of their faces.

Arya almost gasped. Though she had not been physically altered from what she could feel, she was looking at a different elf—one with blonde hair, slightly more angled features and deep hazel eyes which painfully reminded her of Eragon's. Her face was changed beyond recognition—it would have taken much spell work to achieve such a transformation.

Looking around, she saw that her two friends had undergone the same. Murtagh's hair was now a lighter chestnut colour, his ears were tapered and his eyes stormy grew. Oromis had long jet black hair and aqua-coloured eyes, and all traces of his usual radiant glow were gone. Each of them now wore the mail surcoat and grey cape of the City Guard; the difference for Arya was a drastic one, as she always wore light armour even when going into battle. Their clothing at least was real enough, though she was quite sure it would provide little protection against the power of the Giants.

"_I suggest that Firnen and I follow you in the air to the hall." _Said Thorn to all of them. _"If it comes to a fight, we can dive in at your signal and cause a distraction." _

Oromis nodded. "That seems like a good idea." He said, and with another wave of his hand they were invisible once more. Arya heard a tumult of beating wings and she knew they had taken off.

They all joined the road now, proceeding at a half walk, half jog to Tialdari hall. They were at the main gates in just a few minutes. Four guards stood before it, but the leader spoke the incantation to open the gates and admitted them with a nod of the head and no questions asked. They were through.

Arya felt a flood of memory slam into her as she quickly traversed the grounds. This had been the centre of her life for the past year, before she had ended up on this crazy adventure. It all seemed like an eternity ago now.

The hall itself came into view beyond the trees and bushes that were littered around the gardens. This time, the guards were different. They appeared to be elves, but Arya could immediately tell otherwise. Their forms seemed to shimmer in the darkness, and Arya could somehow sense a sort of dark power radiating from them. There was no doubt they were disguised Giants.

How could her fellow elves not notice? Or did they notice, but were unable to do anything about it? Were her people imprisoned?

"_Relax, Arya." _Said Firnen. _"You know full well that if Faolin was willing to let his servants reveal themselves, they would have done so a long time ago."_

"_But that was in Galbatorix's time." _Said Arya worriedly._"What if things have changed now? What if Dathedr's disobeyed Faolin and revealed himself anyway?"_

Firnen sent her a mental snort. _"Then he would be dead." _He said simply.

The two guards walked up to meet them. "Lord Dathedr is busy." Said the first one, looking upon the trio with disdain. "What message do you bring?"

"That you should know when you see a mortal and when you don't." Snarled Oromis. "Watch your tone, _door guard."_ As he finished the sentence, Arya saw Oromis' form flicker momentarily.

The second eyed them suspiciously. "You don't look like one of us." he said in a low voice.

"That's because some of us actually know how to put on a decent disguise, idiot." Snarled Oromis. "We received word that the Order has been captured. We're here to speak to Dathedr."

"_Lord _Dathedr." The second corrected angrily.

"Not to us." Replied Oromis.

"I wasn't aware that news of their capture had been sent to the king." Said the first.

"If you think anything evades the king's knowledge, you are sadly mistaken." Retorted Oromis. "Like, for example, the fact that two guards held up his envoy."

The two guards stared at them for several moments, dislike clear on their shimmering features. They then stepped aside, and the doors swung open.

The long hall of arched trees was one Arya knew all too well, but right now it looked quite different to the way she had left it. Dathedr sat on the knotted throne, just as she had invited him to as she had been preparing to leave on her quest to find Eragon. He was in elven form, though he too shimmered with ethereal light. His face, usually so controlled, bore an expression of ill-concealed triumph, as kneeling before him were two people Arya instantly recognized to be Angela and Evandar.

Standing in a loose semicircle around the prisoners were several other Giants, all in elven form. Two of them held spears right next to the prisoners' backs. Many of the other elves Arya recognized as members of her council; most of whom had been recently appointed at the suggestion of Dathedr.

"Messengers from the King, my lord." Said the first guard, coming in behind the trio as the door closed behind them. "They are here for the prisoners."

Dathedr raised his eyes and stared at them intensely for several long moments. "Of course." He said with a slight smile. "Well, as you can see, we have here with us two members of the Grey Order. The others will be ours soon enough."

Without communicating with the others Arya knew the plan-get as close to the prisoners as possible and then call in Firnen and Thorn to provide the distraction. As one, they all strode forwards to meet Dathedr.

Arya looked around her, taking in their opposition. Around the outskirts of the hall were several actual elven guards; all of them wearing strangely blank expressions. Arya didn't know exactly what state they were in, but she guessed they had no idea of what was happening and who they were guarding. She also figured it was fair to assume they would be turned against them if it came to a fight. The Giants, meanwhile, numbered just over half a dozen. Though only the two who were guarding the prisoners held weapons, Arya knew that the others would either materialize their own in a fight or simply blast them with energy.

"So, you say you'll have the others soon?" asked Oromis.

Dathedr nodded, still smiling. "I am quite confident." He said. "Within mere minutes, I will have the entire Grey Order in my custody, and then the king will see that I am his greatest servant, not that oaf Galbatorix."

Evandar spat at his feet. "You'll never get them." He snarled. "They're already a hundred miles from here by now."

"Oh, you misunderstand, my friend." Said Dathedr, rising to his feet. "This game is already up."

"Why, you..." began Evandar, but as he attempted to rise to his feet tendrils of dark energy appeared, binding him to the floor. He struggled for a few seconds, but his bonds did not waver.

Arya knew Dathedr was right when her connection with Firnen blacked out. One instant she could sense him hovering over the hall, waiting for a signal, and the next, there was nothing.

"_Firnen!" _she yelled. _"Firnen!" _but there was no reply. Desperately, she stretched out her mind to find him, but found her it immediately blocked by a dark force.

Dathedr grinned. "Don't believe me? See for yourself. Turn around."

Oromis snarled. "Do you suggest that _we _are with _them_?" he asked incredulously, and then spat at Evandar.

Dathedr's grin widened. "Do not pretend to be something far better than yourself. Since you're the one doing all the talking, I assume you are Oromis. I am honouredto meet you once more, _Shur'tgal. _The Giant flicked his wrist, and their disguises melted away.

"Don't you know it's rude to deceive your betters in their own halls?" asked Dathedr, his voice mockingly polite. "You need a lesson in humility, I think. The king did say that you weren't needed alive, but, since you're here anyway, I'm sure he won't mind."

As one, the trio drew their swords. Dathedr chuckled.

"Go ahead." He said. "I wonder, my friends, which one do we kill first?"

Hot dread rose up in Arya. Dathedr was right—the game _was _up. If they attacked, Evandar and Angela would die. They had failed.

"Don't listen to him!" yelled Angela. Her captor struck her head with the butt of his spear and she collapsed to the ground. He raised the weapon for the killing blow.

"Well, I suppose that's decided then." Said Dathedr, his voice impossibly quiet and yet ringing with triumph. "Drop your weapons, or we see just how strong her soul is."

For several long, tense moments, there was silence. Nobody moved a muscle.

"NOW!" yelled Dathedr, and Angela's captor raised his weapon high.

Oromis' sword fell to the ground with a clatter which resonated through the entire hall. There was no other choice. Arya dropped her sword, as did Murtagh a second later. She fixed Dathedr with a stare of pure loathing.

He chuckled once more. "You are looking quite intimidating, _Drotting. _You have no idea how hard it was for me to serve you all this time. True, a year is not a long period for our kind, but no time serving a filthy Half-Breed is short enough." At this, Evandar initiated a fresh struggle to get at Dathedr, but he remained tied down.

The doors burst open, and Arya's heart stopped. Levitating through them were the unconscious forms of Firnen and Thorn, with two Giants brining up the rear.

"Ah, the foul beasts have arrived! How majestic you look today, Firnen and Thorn!" He nodded to the guards, and with a wave of their hands the two dragons fell to the floor, limp.

Arya's mind was working furiously. Maybe she could take out the two guards standing over Evandar and Angela. But there were so many enemies in the room, both Giants and elves, and it would only take one blast or stab to kill them, especially Angela, who remained unmoving on the floor.

It was then that Arya saw it—a disturbance in the bushes, a shimmering form, visible for only a moment through one of the windows at the far side of the hall, to which the Giant's backs were turned. Arya knew immediately that someone was out there, bending the light around them with a mortal spell. Arya watched intensely. She wanted to yell out for whoever it was to run and hide. The Giants would find and kill them for sure.

The eavesdropper moved once more, picking something up which had previously been concealed in the bushes. Arya knew what it was immediately; the Dauthdaert, Niernen.

More disturbances as the spear was lifted up, poised to throw. Arya's heart was beating at breakneck speed. Even with all those spells on it, the Dauthdaert would pass through the Giants as if it were nothing...

A violent disturbance, and the hidden watcher hurled the spear at the wall. The entire building shook as the back wall exploded in emerald flames.

They all turned at once: Dathedr, the elves, and the Giants guarding the prisoners. Arya's instincts took over. She dropped to the floor and rolled forwards, gracefully picking up her sword as she did so, and ran towards her father and Angela, with the other two close behind.

Momentarily distracted, Dathedr slashed his hand through the air. There was a burst of dark energy where the eavesdropper was, and the spell was wiped away, revealing Arya's friend Tia.

Time seemed to slow down. How had Tia regained consciousness so fast? How had she got hold of the spear? And what was she thinking now?

Dathedr raised his hand with a yell of fury. Tia had just enough time to allow an expression of pure terror come over her face before the Giant blasted her with a bolt of fire. She was vaporized on the spot.

Arya felt a massive surge of grief. Tia, her only elven friend, was gone; blasted into nothing because of her bravery and foolishness. She didn't have any time to think of on it though. Dathedr turned on his heel and saw the three of them running towards his prisoners. "STOP THEM!" he screamed.

As one, the Giants turned around. At their lord's command, weapons materialized in their hands, and together they charged towards Evandar and Angela. The Giants were much closer; Arya and the others would never reach the prisoners before their enemies.

There was an almighty _crash _and it took all of Arya's elven balance not to be knocked to the floor. She looked up to find a gaping hole in the roof, through which the head of a gigantic blue dragon was peering. Saphira opened her massive maw and let loose a searing blast of flame.

In two seconds, two of Dathedr's Giants had been incinerated. With a terrifying roar, the great sapphire dragoness ripped another chunk of the roof from under her, and she fell to the floor with a _boom _that shook the earth itself.

It was all the distraction Oromis, Murtagh and Arya needed. With a final burst of speed, they made it over to their friends. With two cuts, Oromis severed Evandar's bonds and he leaped to his feet.

Immediately, Arya felt a great force attack her mind. She retreated behind her mental defences; but she soon realized that the attacker was the entire group of elven guards, who had all attacked their queen without question at the bidding of Dathedr.

Arya's defences were just about to crumble when she felt a massive mind join her own—her father's. It took him mere seconds to overcome all the elves and push them away from Arya's mind. He held out his palm and there was a tremendous flash of light, and all the elves immediately collapsed.

Total chaos ensued. Saphira breathed forth another river of fire, while Murtagh and Arya rushed over to Angela to protect her as another Giant rushed in for the kill. Two jets of emerald and crimson light hit the Giant square in the chest, sending him flying back into the wall.

Oromis was duelling Dathedr; both of their weapons were mere blurs of fantastic light. Meanwhile, Evandar was fighting to protect Firnen and Thorn from two more Giants. Murtagh turned back, and Arya knew the plan: he would tend to Angela while she would go for Dathedr. With a fearsome battle cry, she charged.

Dathedr raised his palm, and Arya saw it glowing with fiery power. Just in time, she raised her own hand. She threw all of her willpower into forming a shield against his attack, but it wasn't enough. The wall of green energy shattered into a million pieces and a bolt of fiery darkness struck her with the force of a mail-fisted punch, and everything went black.


End file.
